Harry Potter and the Impossible Future
by Akylascorch
Summary: Harry Potter has just defeated Lord Voldemort as the Battle of Hogwarts draws to a close. Or so he thought. Suddenly needing to run, Harry ends up somewhere he could never have imagined: a Muggle hospital in America. When he finds himself in the care of a mysterious Dr Cullen, things start to go wrong. As innocent lives are put at stake, who comes out with their secrets intact?
1. Prologue

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

" _Expelliarmus!"_

 _Blazing light shot out of both wizards' wands as Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort delivered each other their final blow. Staff, students and Death Eaters alike watched on as the Great Hall lit up with green and scarlet flames that surrounded the two wizards duelling to the death._

 _Harry knew this would be his final chance to rid the world of the dark wizard who had caused so much chaos and destruction for all these years. Because of Voldemort, Harry's life had been decided for him; from the death of his parents, to right at that moment at Hogwarts, there had never been another way, not really. Hunting down the horcruxes had taught him that, and now that there were none left Harry knew it was time for him to finish it._

 _With an almighty crack, the two spells collided in mid-air into an explosion of colour and light. In his periphery, Harry saw a dark shape flit across the air towards him. Without thinking he flung his hand out to catch it and the Elder Wand landed in his hand and glowed, finally recognising its true master._

 _Wrenching his gaze back to his enemy, Harry watched as the red glow in Voldemort's eyes dimmed. He appeared frozen in time until, almost in slow motion, he tipped backwards and hit the cold ground with a thud, never to move again._

 _For a moment nobody breathed. Then all of a sudden, as though a silencing charm had just been lifted, a great roar erupted inside the hall. People started running towards Harry, their saviour, all wanting to be the first to reach him. Just as the crowd began to close in on him, Harry heard something that brought him back to reality._

 _Silencing everybody at once, a hideous wail filled the air, so animalistic the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up on end. Suddenly more cries joined it: shrieks and yells that could wake the dead. Then people were flying. Bodies, both dead and alive, were thrown out of the way and the crowd was parted to reveal the owners of the cries._

 _Bloodied and bruised, the captured Death Eaters rose to their feet after they had been abandoned by their protectors while they celebrated. Striding forwards, they raised their wands and directed them straight at Harry. Members of the Order tried in vain to reach the front of the crowd to shield Harry from the oncoming curses, but they couldn't move fast enough._

 _All at once, Yaxley, Rookwood, Macnair and Dolohov fired at Harry, their shouts blurring together making it impossible to distinguish the individual curses. The only thought that ran through Harry's mind was to get out of there._

 _Securing the Elder wand in his hand, Harry's eyes found those of Ron, widened in terror. Trying to convey as much thanks and sorry into that last gaze, he turned on the spot to disapparate._

 _But something went wrong._

 _Instead of the feeling of being squeezed through a tube, all Harry felt was a sharp tingling travelling the full length of his spine. Wind rushed past his ear as the tingling changed into blinding pain, paralysing his body. He saw bright lights flashing behind his closed lids and he felt himself get thrown off course and into the darkness._

 _All of a sudden the rushing noise stopped and he felt soft ground beneath him. He still felt the same tingling sensation as before, as though electricity was coursing through his limbs. Struggling to breathe, Harry pulled his eyes open and only barely registered the darkness of night that was wherever he had landed. Unable to hold on to consciousness for a second longer, his eyes slid shut and Harry Potter's mind slipped into darkness._


	2. Chapter 1

"-pefully wake up soon. He's been out for more than three hours." The voice was concerned.

He tried to open his eyes but they remained firmly shut.

"Thank-you, Simon. I'll keep an eye on him for now." This voice was clearer. Smoother. Calming.

The sound of a door opening. Closing again. One of the voices left.

He tried moving his hand and managed to stiffly make it into a fist. Rubbing it against the surface he was lying on, he could feel a smooth material that was soft to touch. He tried lifting his arm but felt it obstructed by more of this fabric. Panicking slightly, he grasped at his soft cocoon and managed to get his arms free and placed them down beside him on top of more sheets. He finally concluded that he must be on a bed. He tried his eyes again and found that this time they were opening.

The first thing Harry Potter saw upon opening his eyes was a blinding, white light. After blinking a couple of times, he turned his head to regard the room he was in, only to notice everything appeared blurred. Blinking twice more and seeing no change in his vision, he gave his eyes a quick rub. This didn't help either. It was only then that Harry Potter remembered he wore glasses.

"Mr Potter, how nice to see you've finally woken. We have been wondering when you might stir." Harry recognised this as the second voice from before as he tried to focus on the blurred outline of the figure who was addressing him.

"How –," he croaked. His throat was raw from lack of use. "How do you know my name?"

"It was written on the inside of the sweater you were wearing. We thought it best to remove it for hygiene purposes," the blurry figure moved towards him appearing to be holding something dark in his hand. "Here. 'H. Potter' just on the inside of the neck." The object was placed in Harry's lap.

Harry could just make out that it was indeed a sweater, but no more than that. The man must have noticed Harry's blank look as he suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, I apologise. You wear glasses, don't you? They're just here beside you, mind you they're not in very good shape." Harry put his hand out to find his glasses, but instead found they were already being extended out to him. He took his battered glasses off the man, gently brushing his fingers in the process. A shiver ran down Harry's spine as the cold from the man's hand seeped into his own.

Putting on his cracked glasses, Harry was finally able to make out his surroundings. His earlier suspicions were proved correct, for he was lying under the white linen sheets of a bed. Moving his eyes around the rest of the room, he noticed that beyond his bed there was little other furniture; with the exception of a table, two small cabinets and a chair beside him, the room was empty.

On the wall over to his right was a large window, shut tight to keep the warm air inside. From where he was on his bed, Harry could make out only the roofs of other buildings and lots and lots of trees. Opposite the window on the wall to his left, there was a simple door. He sometimes saw a silhouette of a person rush past through the frosted glass in its windows.

"Where am I?" Harry asked as he continued to take in the layout of the room. He could hear voices occasionally floating past the door.

"You don't remember what happened, do you?" Harry turned towards the voice on his left to look at the calm voiced man properly for the first time.

The eyes were what Harry noticed first: a deep golden colour that seemed to pierce Harry's own as he stared. There were faint signs of dark shadows beneath them, highlighted by his incredibly pale skin, which indicated a lack of recent sleep. His slicked blond hair accentuated the chiselled features of his face which began to move again as he started to speak.

"This is Forks Hospital. You have been here since this morning when I found you lying by the side of the road on my way in to work. I brought you in and have been monitoring your condition since then," the doctor explained, for Harry could put two and two together to work out this strangely good looking man must indeed be a doctor.

Forks, however… what on earth was that? Judging by the equipment that he now noticed surrounding his bed, Harry guessed this was not like St. Mungo's and was in fact a muggle hospital. But Forks? What did silverware have to do with the naming of a hospital?

"Uhh…Forks?"

The doctor frowned.

"Yes, Forks," he confirmed slowly. "This is the town of Forks, Washington."

Washington…that's in–

"I'm in America?!" Harry sieved through his memories trying to work out when and how he had crossed the Atlantic.

Voldemort was dead. He remembered that much. He had finally done what the prophecy had predicted and yet it made him feel hollow. So many people had died– no, that didn't do them justice. So many people had been _murdered_ for the cause of stopping Voldemort: Remus, Tonks, Fred, even tiny Colin Creevey. Thinking about it all made his head hurt. It was a long while before he realised the doctor was speaking again.

"Mr Potter? What's the last thing you remember?" he had a look of genuine concern on his face as Harry stared blankly into space with sadness in his eyes. Harry couldn't work himself up to answer the doctor. The last thing he remembered?

He had been in the Great Hall, surrounded by his professors and fellow students as well as the Death Eaters they had captured. The stench of loss from the bodies haphazardly piled around the room briefly evaporated as everyone celebrated the defeat of the Dark Lord. It was during this celebration that the watch on the remaining Death Eaters was lowered, as four simultaneously sent curses flying Harry's way. In the split second of time he had, Harry disapparated not really knowing where he was aiming for. After that he just remembered unimaginable pain, and then nothing.

Now the blanks were getting filled. His desperate attempt at escape had landed him in America badly damaged by the curses that had hit him. He must have landed by the side of a road and passed out.

He sighed. Why did these things always happen to him?

Harry suddenly realised the doctor hadn't given his name, and also kept calling him Mr Potter. It was beginning to get on his nerves.

"Please, call me Harry," he supplied the doctor. "I'm sorry, sir, but I still don't know who you are."

The doctor gave a warm smile before replying. "Forgive me, I should have introduced myself earlier. I'm Doctor Cullen, Harry." His smile vanished as quickly as it appeared before he added, "Can you tell me how you sustained these injuries? They don't look like those of a hit-and-run incident."

Of course they bloody don't, Harry thought. They look more like those of someone who has been on the run hunting horcruxes to defeat the most dangerous wizard in the world, and yet somehow escaped from dying at the hands of said wizard's mental followers.

Harry blinked. Something told him that Doctor Cullen wouldn't quite believe that.

"I don't remember," Harry lied. "I have no idea what happened before I woke up here." It was somewhat true. He had no idea how he had apparated into a tiny town thousands of miles away. Was that even possible?

"You're English, aren't you? And you were surprised to hear you are in America. Are you with your parents?" A small frown marred the doctor's face as he worked to solve Harry's mysterious arrival. Harry though wasn't interested in providing answers. Instead of responding to Doctor Cullen's questions, he busied himself with studying his injuries.

He lifted his hands up toward his face and let his eyes trace the small cuts covering them, as well as the bandages that presumably hid the larger ones. He could feel a compression band around his left ankle and his shoulder was stiff with thick binding to hold it in place. His fingers skimmed over the many small cuts that adorned his face, and stopped just short of the thin scar hidden by his fringe. It didn't burn anymore, the lightning bolt etched on his forehead, but he would always have it to remind him of what he had lost.

He looked back at the doctor, whose piercing eyes were studying every one of Harry's movements. What had he asked? Something about his parents? No, of course he wasn't with them, but he had been. Those few minutes in the forest with the Resurrection Stone had been bliss. He had heard its power was dangerous and understood why; it reminded him of his attraction to the Mirror of Erised in his first year. He looked down at his hands as the memories came flooding back.

"I –" Harry started to speak but was cut off by a blood curdling scream ringing through the hospital. Harry sprang bolt upright as Doctor Cullen raced to the window.

"Oh my…"

Ignoring the complaints of his body, Harry jumped out of bed and stumbled over to stand beside the doctor.

"What the –" Harry just stared at the sight before him.

The terrified faces were the first things he noticed. Then the running. He knew that running; it was fearful running. The sort of running you reserved for when nothing mattered but your own safety. What must have been twenty people were scurrying away with terror etched upon their faces. Harry turned his gaze away from the fleeing people to find what they were running from.

On the block next to the hospital sat a construction site, visibly a few months under way, and this appeared to be the cause of distress. A two storey high scaffolding structure sat high above the pavement and looked set to collapse, though this wasn't what made Harry's blood run cold; high on top, standing on a worker's platform, stood seven people clutching the railing for dear life.

Clustered in the middle of the platform stood the workmen holding each other in a vain attempt at keeping upright. Occasionally one would slip sideways as the scaffolding violently lurched, threatening to give way at any moment. Harry couldn't quite make out their faces from where he stood at the window, but he had a fair idea of what they would look like.

Harry turned to Doctor Cullen, hoping to see him going for help, but he stood there motionless. In his eyes was a look of deep indecision and conflict, as though he were having an internal debate on what to do. Looking out the window again, Harry had to admit he felt the same; should he risk doing magic? He turned back to see the doctor still standing there.

"Aren't you going to do something? Those people are going to be killed!" Harry started to fumble with the latches, trying to open the window. His hands stilled when he felt a cold hand come down to rest on his shoulder making him turn back to look into those golden eyes.

"There's nothing we can do, Harry." Doctor Cullen sounded strained, apparently resigning himself to what was happening, but not happy about it.

Harry couldn't take it. Screw the Statute of Secrecy. He didn't know if the same laws applied in America but he wasn't going to watch seven people fall to their deaths.

"Maybe you can't. But I can," he muttered to himself before tearing his gaze away from the scene and sprinting out the door.

Harry bolted through the corridors, dodging doctors and ignoring the cries of alarm. He set himself on following any exit sign he saw, hoping that they would lead him out to the street. He vaguely remembered that he should not be running; half an hour ago he had been unconscious. His tired body, however, was used to working in poor conditions and he knew that with the adrenaline pumping through his veins he could go for hours.

Turning a corner much too quickly, Harry crashed into a trolley and went flying. The doctor who had been pushing the cart shouted in alarm as the dark haired boy bowled him over. As heads poked out of doorways to see the cause of the ruckus, Harry pushed himself up off the ground and tried to resume running. In his dive however, he had landed awkwardly on his already sore left ankle, and so his running became more of a speedy hobble.

Finally he made it to what looked like the main entrance. Leaping outside Harry spun to look for the construction site. He stood panting at the doorway trying to catch his breath, when he heard the screams start-up again over to his right. He limped towards it while reaching in his pocket for the Elder Wand. He found it in its usual place, internally grateful the doctors hadn't taken it from him, and pulled it out as he looked up at the building.

The groaning of the metal seemed to have risen several decibels, as it prepared to give way. The screaming became shrieks of terror, and without bothering to see who might be nearby, Harry pointed his wand and shouted at the top of his lungs:

" _WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA_!"

The scaffolding froze in mid-air, but Harry was almost forced to break the spell immediately. He fell to his knees and let out a gasp of pain as what felt like thousands of volts sparked down his spine. Harry barely registered that the screams had stopped, as the only sound left was the angry grinding of steel against steel, threatening to continue its path down to earth should he lose concentration for even a second. With an almighty CLANG, Harry only barely managed to guide the structure up against the neighbouring building, allowing the workmen to scramble off to safety. Once he saw all seven people were off, Harry let the structure fall to the ground and with it, the pain disappeared. Pieces of piping and scrap metal flew in every direction as it smashed to the concrete.

Harry pocketed his wand and gasped for breath. He could still feel a light tingle in his arms. When he looked up again, he saw a shard of metal coming for his face. Only having enough time to turn, the metal struck Harry on the side of his head before he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Sinking into blackness for the second time that day, Harry never noticed the golden eyed doctor watching him closely from the shadows.


	3. Chapter 2

Carlisle clicked his office door shut and leaned back against it, letting out a needless breath. He had just finished applying stitches to Harry's head where the fragment of metal had struck him and had now returned to his office to do some much needed thinking.

After…whatever it was Harry had done, Carlisle had frozen in awe until the boy collapsed and the smell of blood became thick in the air. Brought out of his daze at once, Carlisle had called for assistance and returned Harry to his room where he remained unconscious. Now was Carlisle's first opportunity to properly consider what he had seen.

As soon as his breath had left his lips, another interruption came with the ringing of his phone. Flashing over to his desk chair, he pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and with a quick glance at the screen, pressed the answer button.

"Alice? What's wrong?" his adoptive children rarely phoned him while at work and when they did it was usually trouble.

" _Carlisle? Oh my god, you're alright. What happened? Did anyone get hurt? Why didn't you pick up?"_ Alice reeled off at a speed impossible for a human to understand.

"Forgive me, Alice. I foolishly left my phone in my coat pocket in my office, and I was too preoccupied to hear it where I was. You saw the scaffolding collapse, then?" Carlisle had noticed the subtle tremor in his daughter's voice and started to feel the guilt rising.

" _Yes and no. I saw it but I couldn't see you anywhere. I haven't been able to see you all day. What's going on?"_ The anxiety was now clear in Alice's voice, and Carlisle winced at how much worry he must have put his family through. Alice had never not been able to follow any of them in her visions. Carlisle wondered if his mystery patient might have something to do with the 'glitch', for want of a better word.

"It's alright, Alice. Only one person was hurt and they are currently in my care in a stable condition," he soothed, before adding in his thoughts _'Or should I say_ back _in my care.'_

A thought then came to him. "In fact, is Edward there? I would like him to come down if he could." Why hadn't he thought of his son before? Harry was completely unwilling to provide Carlisle with any information that he could use to figure out what happened, and Edward was the perfect solution. Carlisle tried to reassure himself that it was the right thing to do.

" _Edward will be there any second. He left to go find you after you didn't pick up the third time."_ Carlisle winced again.

"I truly am sorry, Alice. I should have had my phone on me."

" _That's alright, Carlisle. I'm just happy you and everyone is ok…well, apart from your patient. Is that why you want Edward? You want him to read your patient?"_ Even without her gift Alice was very perceptive.

"Actually, yes. Normally I wouldn't ask of him to do this but there's something about this boy. Something…different." He really had no words to describe what Harry was, and he wasn't about to begin trying over the phone.

" _Ooh I love when you get interesting people! Tell us about it tonight, Edward should be pulling up outside now, I don't want to keep you. Bye Carlisle!"_

Carlisle smiled at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Goodbye Alice."

Sure enough as Carlisle returned his phone to his pocket, he heard Edward's voice speaking to the receptionist in the foyer. He made his way over to his desk and leant against it, listening to Edward make his way humanly slow down the corridor.

' _I'm sorry, Edward, for worrying you all. Everything is fine, I've spoken to Alice,_ ' he thought, hoping to put his son at ease.

Carlisle looked up as Edward opened and closed his office door in the blink of an eye. He looked back at his father with hard, black eyes and stood with his hands shoved deep within his pockets. His posture was unnaturally straight with shoulders that were stiff and unmoving. He wasn't breathing.

Carlisle just sighed and looked at his son with pity.

"Edward, if you needed to hunt this badly you shouldn't have come. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Carlisle knew Edward's self-control wasn't quite on the same level as his, but he still had faith in his son. If only Edward had as much self-assurance.

"It's fine. What happened, Carlisle?" Edward grumbled with a voice as firm as his stance. Carlisle could tell it wasn't fine.

' _Edward…_ '

"I said that it's fine, can't you just tell me what's going on instead of worrying about me?" he snapped back. Carlisle raised his eyebrows as if to say 'what did I tell you'.

Obviously hearing this in his father's mind, Edward made an effort to physically relax. His shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the office door just as Carlisle himself had done earlier. He closed his eyes and paused before speaking again.

"Sorry. We're going hunting tonight. I'm ok, really. Please, Carlisle, what happened this morning? Alice didn't –" Carlisle cut him off by replaying in his mind all the events of the morning, from finding Harry, to hanging up on his conversation with Alice.

Edward frowned.

"How did he do that?" Carlisle could tell what Edward was referring to: Harry's little performance.

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it." Not even after three centuries in the world of the supernatural had Carlisle ever witnessed something like what Harry did that morning. It was both exciting and unnerving.

"He seemed to be in pain."

"Yes," Carlisle nodded. "He seemed to expend a great deal of energy. Perhaps too much."

Carlisle watched Edward's head tilt as he delved deeper into his thoughts.

"You're concerned about him." It wasn't a question.

"Of course. I hold concern for all my patients." Though this was true, Carlisle knew that Edward would see through his excuse.

"More than your standard patients, though." Edward squinted his eyes slightly as though trying to focus more on Carlisle's thoughts.

Carlisle furrowed his brow, looking into the black voids that were Edward's eyes. "That's because Harry is not a standard patient," he stated simply.

He suddenly sprang up from his desk and glided to the filing cabinet against the wall. Quick as a flash, Carlisle skimmed through them all before drawing out the one he needed, 'Potter H.'.

"I'd like you to come and see him. Speaking to him earlier, it was clear that he wasn't comfortable with sharing any information about himself. Harry says he has no recollection of what happened to him, but I think he's lying." Carlisle looked once over Harry's very empty file. The only personal information they had was his name and his nationality. Other than that the file only outlined his status within the hospital: his room number, injuries and time of admission. Carlisle needed to know more about Harry. About what he was.

"So you want me to look in his mind," Edward supplied, a smirk playing across his face. "Doesn't that go against patient confidentiality?"

Carlisle closed Harry's file and made to move past Edward to the door, not before giving him a look.

"With you, Edward, there's no such thing as confidentiality." Carlisle opened the door and moved out into the corridor. "It's the only thing I can think of to get answers. I would like to help him, if I can."

* * *

Edward followed Carlisle through the door into Harry's room and stopped in his tracks. He stiffened and turned to look at his father who just smiled.

' _You can feel it as well, can't you_?' he heard Carlisle ask in his thoughts.

Edward closed his eyes and continued to hold his breath, hoping to eliminate some of his senses to try understand what he was feeling. As soon as he had stepped inside, Edward had felt a strange presence in the room, not unlike what vampires felt when nearby another of their kind. Vampires could sense each other not just by their smell and appearance, but also by the power they radiated. Each vampire's was different, some more powerful than others. It was something that humans just didn't project. So why did Harry?

It was like nothing Edward had experienced. Even the Volturi didn't feel this powerful. He could see now why Carlisle was intrigued.

Edward reopened his eyes and looked back at his father who spoke.

"He smells different too. His blood doesn't smell like that of other humans," he murmured with his eyes trained on Harry.

"I'll take your word for it." Different smelling or not, Harry still had a lot of blood on him, and Edward wasn't sure he would be able to resist the temptation.

Carlisle looked back up at his son, face painted with sympathy. Drawing the attention back away from himself, Edward changed the subject.

"His injuries are strange. He wouldn't say how he got them? Isn't that suspicious?" How a seemingly ordinary teenage boy – in appearance anyway – could suffer from such devastating injuries was beyond Edward's comprehension. As well as the deep gashes covering his body, there were dark bruises mottling his skin, some of which looked days old.

Edward also noticed that none of Harry's cuts looked like they had been tended to properly. They were still stained with blood and dirt, and some of them looked like they required stitches. He knew Carlisle wasn't this careless, so it surprised him.

Walking slowly to the side of the bed, Edward traced the air above Harry's wounds, trying to count them. He couldn't. Keeping his eyes on Harry, he sensed Carlisle move to the other side of the bed.

"Nothing would work on them. Cleaning only did so much, and anything with which we tried to close his wounds failed: stitches would unravel, bandages wouldn't stick. I'm very worried they might become infected. Only the smaller ones could be covered properly. You're right; his injuries are most certainly not normal."

Silence fell on the two vampires struggling to comprehend the boy that lay on the bed between them. After a few minutes, Carlisle seemed to remember why he had requested Edward's help in the first place.

' _What can you hear, Edward?_ ' He asked his son in his mind.

Edward glanced up at his father before fixing his gaze upon the boy. Only when his father had asked about Harry's thoughts, did Edward notice there was one voice too few in his head.

He couldn't hear Harry's mind.

Edward sharpened his thoughts and focused solely on his gift, but the only voice he could hear was that of Carlisle, concerned about the faces his son was pulling. Edward tried probing deeper into Harry's mind, but met nothing but a solid wall. Seeing if it would help, he envisioned a battering ram slamming into the wall in an attempt to shatter it and get past. This only got a small wince out of Harry as his mind was assaulted over and over. Giving up, Edward pulled from his head.

Carlisle had obviously noticed Harry's reaction and voiced his concern.

"What was that? Is he having a nightmare?"

Edward just shook his head, his eyes not leaving Harry's face.

"I… don't know. I can't hear anything. I can only hear your thoughts." Hearing no response, audibly or otherwise, Edward lifted his face to look at his father. "You knew this would happen. That I wouldn't be able to hear Harry's mind," he hissed in an accusatory tone.

"I didn't know. I simply suspected," Carlisle defended. "The events of this morning suggest he has the ability to block Alice's gift and so I merely guessed the same might happen to you. Though I was hoping it wouldn't."

Black met gold as Edward held his father's gaze.

"What does this mean?"

"It means Harry is something we have not come across before," Carlisle murmured with a mixture of concern for his patient and excitement of the unknown.

Suddenly the boy on the bed began to stir.

"He's waking up. Edward wait for me in my office. I'll be with you shortly after I have another word with Harry." Carlisle immediately switched back to doctor mode and went to pick up Harry's file from where he had placed it.

Leaving the room, Edward let the doors swing shut behind him with a soft 'whump'. Even from the other side of the wall, Edward could still feel tingling through his body the power belonging to the mystery that was Harry Potter.


	4. Chapter 3

For the second time in a couple of hours, Harry opened his bleary eyes to a bright, white light above his head. Blinking hard, he tried to push himself up but stopped as he felt a pounding in the side of his skull.

"Take it easy, Harry. You've taken quite a knock." The smooth voice was back and Harry turned his head towards the sound.

Doctor Cullen stood there looking just as perfect as before, except possibly slightly less at ease. His brow was lined with worry, looking very out of place on his youthful face. Hanging the folder he was holding over the railings of the bed, the doctor moved to stand beside Harry and gave him a calculating look, as though he were trying to figure something out.

Harry began to feel squeamish under the doctor's gaze. Had he seen what happened? Had someone else seen Harry stop the scaffolding and told Doctor Cullen as Harry's doctor? Deciding to be cautious, Harry once again played the 'I-can't-remember-a-thing' card.

"Um, what happened exactly?" he asked in his most innocent voice.

At his question, Doctor Cullen seemed to come out of a daze but the scrutinising look didn't waver.

"After you ran outside, you were so focused on the scaffolding that you didn't see a shard of metal that had fallen bounce and hit you in the head. It knocked you out cold." He repeated the story with conviction and something else. Was it… wariness?

There was no mention of Harry's involvement, and yet he still wasn't convinced the doctor had not seen anything. He decided to probe further.

"And the building site – are the people alright?" Harry of course had seen himself that everyone had made it safely off, but he needed to know the story that Doctor Cullen was following.

"Don't worry, Harry, everyone is perfectly fine. The structure ended up falling over onto the neighbouring building, allowing the people trapped on top to climb over to safety. It was incredibly lucky." As he said this, the smile that lit up Doctor Cullen's face was so genuine that Harry couldn't help but believe this was the events the doctor had noticed. He mentally sighed in relief. He had gotten away with it.

"I am curious though, Harry. What on earth did you think you could achieve by running outside?" Suddenly the friendly tone disappeared. "Surely you must admit it was a foolish thing to do, especially in your condition," the doctor accused, as he fixed his patient with a scolding look that reminded Harry of the face Mrs Weasley gave her children on a daily basis.

Despite feeling as though he were being told-off for misbehaving, Doctor Cullen's comment annoyed Harry to some degree. The doctor thought him foolish? He had to remind himself that Doctor Cullen had no idea of his magic and so simply saw him as an injured boy who had stupidly tried to play hero.

Instead of answering the question, Harry retorted with one of his own.

"Why didn't _you_ do anything? Surely you could have called someone for help," he snapped back angrily. He was starting to get a headache.

Doctor Cullen looked as though he was about to counter with something else, but instead he just sighed and turned to head towards the door.

"I do not feel like arguing the subject, Harry. You should get some rest. If you need anything, just press the button beside you and someone will come. Oh, and try to stay put this time." And with that he walked out the door.

Harry continued to stare at the spot where Doctor Cullen had disappeared. The doctor confused him like nothing else. Not only did every conversation with him seem to come to an abrupt end, but he was like no other person Harry had ever come across. His appearance and the way he carried himself contrasted greatly from other people Harry had seen around the hospital. Doctor Cullen 'screamed' _different_.

He spoke with a refinement and sophistication that wasn't found in this day and age, certainly not in the Muggle world. The way he spoke reminded Harry of how the teachers at Hogwarts did. He was always polite, even when Harry wasn't cooperating with answers to his questions, and also seemed to hold a genuine concern for Harry's wellbeing unlike other Muggle doctors his uncle and aunt had grudgingly taken him to in the past.

There was definitely something not quite right with Doctor Cullen, and had Harry been an ordinary Muggle patient, he would have simply brushed him off as a kind-hearted, oddly good-looking doctor. However Harry was not an ordinary Muggle and so wasn't so quick to disregard what could only be magic. Though he did admit Doctor Cullen was a kind-hearted man.

How did Harry come to the conclusion of magical involvement? Taking into account the doctor's beauty, pale skin, musical voice and ice-cold touch, there was no other solution really. Harry just wasn't sure _what_ he was. He started off by trying to think of any spells or potions he knew that could cause those effects. He quickly remembered though that he wasn't Hermione and therefore would have absolutely no idea about that subject. He decided on a different approach.

After seven years in the magical world, Harry had learned about an awfully large number of magical creatures. One of his favourite teachers and dearest friends had been one. Harry tried connecting what he knew about werewolves to Doctor Cullen and knew it didn't match up. Werewolves were no different in appearance, certainly not unnaturally beautiful (Fenrir Greyback was testament to this), and were no different in body temperature.

He could be part Veela. That would definitely explain the beauty, but again the cold body temperature proved that theory invalid.

Harry was stumped. He couldn't think of any other possibilities that were plausible. True the idea of half-giant had come to mind, but Harry quickly quashed the stupid suggestion. There had to be some element he was missing; something that would tie all the evidence together and give him an answer.

He went over everything he had noticed about Doctor Cullen once more: pale, freezing skin, striking features, melodious voice. Harry was certain he hadn't noticed something. He replayed both of his conversations with the doctor in his head, looking out for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing that he remembered struck Harry as particularly odd. Unless…

 _Harry turned to Doctor Cullen, hoping to see him going for help, but he stood there motionless. In his eyes was a look of deep indecision and conflict, as though he were having an internal debate on what to do. Looking out the window again, Harry had to admit he felt the same; should he risk doing magic?_

Doctor Cullen's face when the scaffolding was starting to fall had reminded Harry of exactly what he was going through, debating with himself whether to risk revealing magic to save those people's lives. But that was it; his face was _identical_ to Harry's own at the time, as though he was also questioning whether or not to reveal something about himself.

The doctor had a secret. Maybe he wasn't a magical creature. What if he was just a wizard like Harry? Maybe there really was some potion or strange magical condition that gave you really, really cold skin, though what on earth would be the point in that?

Harry knew, though, that Doctor Cullen simply couldn't be a wizard. His name had drawn no reaction from the doctor. As much as Harry hated the fact, no wizard could meet the famous Harry Potter without blinking in wonder and glancing at his forehead to look for his trademark scar. The man was definitely not a wizard.

But what could Doctor Cullen have done to help without magic? If Harry weren't a wizard, there would have been no way for him to do anything at all to save those people. Unless he had another sort of ability like telekinesis or super strength, Harry would have been useless.

…Super strength? Where had that idea come from? The strongest person he knew was Hagrid, and Harry didn't think that even he would have been able to hold all that metal upright. This would have needed to be super, super strength to do that, so unless Doctor Cullen was hiding an inhuman power he would not have been able to help.

Suddenly the gears in Harry's head began to whir as he expanded on his admittedly bizarre theory. Playing with the amusing thought that the average-sized Doctor Cullen was actually an incredibly powerful super-human, Harry thought of how he could have stopped the structure from falling.

The doctor would have needed to get there pretty fast. Harry had managed to get there just in time, but he didn't need to get right up close to use his magic. In fact he had purposely kept his distance to draw as little attention to himself as possible. If someone were to physically hold it up, they would have had to race right to the bottom of the construction site which was behind an 8 foot tall chain fence.

"Great, now I'm saying that he's incredibly fast too," Harry grumbled to himself. This was getting more ridiculous the more he thought about it. But since when were things in his life not ridiculous?

For amusement purposes, Harry added strength and speed to the list of unnatural features the doctor possessed. Running back through the mental list he had formed of magical creatures, he was disappointed to find that he still couldn't make a match.

Harry was just about to give up when he thought of one he had forgotten. The thought hit him like a steam train, and he almost fell out of his bed when he realised that everything matched. The skin, his good looks, the suspected strength and speed; there was only one thing Doctor Cullen could be.

 _Vampire_.

The pain in his head and limbs forgotten, Harry jumped out of bed and began to pace the room. He'd only ever met a vampire once; Slughorn had invited one to his Christmas party in Harry's sixth year and he had been introduced. Now that he thought about it, Sanguini (as the vampire had been named) shared many similar features with Doctor Cullen: the pale skin, flawless features and an incredibly smooth voice. Though Harry could have sworn that Sanguini's eyes had been red.

A hospital seemed like an odd place for a vampire to work. In fact, it was quite odd for one to have an ordinary job among humans at all. In the wizarding world, vampires were subject to all sorts of prejudice, not dissimilar to that which werewolves faced. No one wants to hire vampires and they were, unsurprisingly, seen as untrustworthy. Not all vampires were a part of the wizarding world though and so Harry assumed that Doctor Cullen was one of the ones that lived among Muggles, oblivious to the world of magic.

As Harry pondered his discovery, his fingers aimlessly wandered toward the stitches on the side of his head. Tracing over the small bumps, his attention was drawn once again to the state of his body, or more specifically, his lack of cleanliness. Harry still had blood caked on his skin and he could see dark patches of blood through some of his bandages. Feeling his head again, he thought of the amount of blood that there must have been. This made him wonder…

Why was he still alive?

If Doctor Cullen was a vampire, which Harry was now confident he was, he surely couldn't have coped with the large amount of blood there must have been. What sort of vampire had that level of self-control to not suck dry a bleeding patient?

There was clearly a lot to Doctor Cullen that Harry still didn't know and perhaps never would. He decided that it was too dangerous to let the doctor learn of his discovery and had no intention of doing so.

Happy with this decision, Harry settled himself back down for a much needed rest.

* * *

 **A/N** : Hello, and thank you so much for the positive feedback so far! I just want to let you know that I will be updating this story regularly on a weekly basis, so there should be a new chapter every weekend. I won't have many of these Author Notes except if it's needed, so otherwise you can just continue to enjoy as we go along!


	5. Chapter 4

Following his father's instruction, Edward waited patiently in the small office space while Carlisle had another word with Harry. Slowly revolving in his father's desk chair, Edward was only half-heartedly eavesdropping the conversation, as his thoughts were focused on his inability to read the teenager's mind. He had never come across anyone whose mind he couldn't read before and was curious why his gift suddenly failed him.

A raised voice brought Edward out of his thoughts, and he could hear Harry becoming agitated.

" _Why didn't_ you _do anything? Surely you could have called someone for help."_

Edward heard his father's short sigh of annoyance, similar to the one he would give him or any of his siblings whenever one of them broke a piece of furniture.

" _I do not feel like arguing the subject, Harry. You should get some rest. If you need anything, just press the button beside you and someone will come. Oh, and try to stay put this time."_

Hearing his father leave Harry's room, Edward tuned his mind in to Carlisle's thoughts, wishing he could hear Harry's mental reaction to his doctor's abrupt departure.

' _That boy. I'm worried he isn't ever going to tell me anything. Why can't he see that I only wish to help?'_ His father's thoughts were becoming more uneasy by the minute.

The door opened and Carlisle stepped inside looking genuinely tired. In that moment, Edward thought Carlisle looked more human that he had ever seen. Seeing Edward watching him with concern from his chair, Carlisle stood up straight and moved to perch himself on his desk.

' _I don't understand him, Edward. What has happened to him to make him so mistrustful?'_

Edward had to agree that Harry seemed oddly wary for a teenager, and certainly wasn't quick to trust anyone he didn't know. He could only assume that was because of something that had happened in Harry's past. Once again the annoyance of not being able to read the teenager's mind returned, this time tinged with guilt as he remembered Carlisle had been relying on him to find out information with which to help his patient.

"Sorry," he mumbled to his father. Carlisle looked down at him in surprise and confusion.

' _What on earth are you apologising for?'_

Could Carlisle really not see what he was talking about? Edward stopped spinning.

"I wasn't any help, was I? I was supposed to be able to tell you everything you wanted to know about Harry, and I can't tell you a damn thing. Some gift," he scoffed, disgusted with his failure. Edward knew that Carlisle wouldn't be upset, and that annoyed him even more.

"Edward, you can't beat yourself up about something you have no control over. We were bound to come across someone who could block your ability at some point." He added in his mind; ' _I'm surprised we haven't before after almost a century of moving about.'_

As usual Carlisle was right. The reality was that they had never found anyone in the past whose mind Edward couldn't read and he had confidently assumed that was because there was no one. He had thought his gift was infallible and never in almost ninety years of immortality could he have guessed a human teenager would be the one to prove him wrong. It was almost insulting.

Quickly reminding himself that Harry was not a normal human teenager, Edward felt marginally better and resumed spinning on his chair. His thoughts returned to Harry's defiance against revealing anything about himself. Edward didn't think that having mysterious powers should explain his inability to trust. Perhaps he wasn't normally like this and just didn't trust Carlisle.

This time when Edward stopped revolving he didn't start again.

Harry wasn't hiding information about himself because of his own personality faults. He was hiding information specifically from the person who was asking for it; his doctor who just happened to be a vampire.

Edward's mind began to whir. It made perfect sense! He remembered back to when he was by Harry's bedside, to a word he had heard his father thinking.

 _Supernatural._

Whatever it was Harry had done to stop that scaffold structure from falling filed neatly under the heading of supernatural involvement. If he were connected to the world where myths and legends were reality, what was there to say he hadn't figured out what Carlisle was? It was easily plausible that Harry had met vampires before and recognised his doctor as one of the supernatural beings. That would make anyone cautious. Edward had reached his next decision before he even finished this last thought.

They had to leave.

Whatever Harry was, he had discovered their secret and there was only ever one solution for that situation. He didn't know where they would go. Maybe they could go north for a while. Emmett would definitely like the possibility of more grizzlies in their next location. Perhaps they could even stay with the Denalis for a while until they worked out something more permanent.

While Edward had this internal monologue, he was totally oblivious to the look his father was giving him which was growing more concerned by the second.

' _Edward? Do you need to leave and hunt now?'_ But Edward was so deep in his mental debate on how to make sure Harry would stay quiet once they had left (no scenario of which ended too well for Harry) that he didn't hear a word Carlisle had thought.

' _I sometimes wish I had your gift, Edward.'_ "Edward," he called in an attempt to break his son out of his trance. "Edward!" This time Carlisle made to grasp Edward's shoulder in order to give him a gentle shake.

Edward was part way through imagining a conversation with Jasper and Rosalie after they had just returned from disposing of Harry's body, when he saw a hand shoot out at him. Reacting purely on instinct, he leapt out of the chair clawing at the invasive hand as a deep growl resonated in his chest. Only when he heard the loud crash did he snap back to his senses.

Turning on the spot, Edward saw what had made the alarming sound. In his haste at vacating the chair, he had sent it hurtling back into the wall which now had a wide crack running across it, just above what appeared to be the sad remains of what was once a very nice desk chair. _Oops._

Noticing that he was at eye level with the chair's remains, Edward realised that he was in a defensive crouch. When had he done that? Standing up and righting his shirt, Edward closed his eyes to try and calm himself. He couldn't even remember what had startled him. The memory soon came back to him though as he heard the thoughts of the other person in the room. He had also forgotten he wasn't alone.

' _What was that?!'_

Terribly embarrassed at his brief lapse in control, Edward slowly turned himself around to face his father but didn't meet his gaze.

"The, um, chair got uncomfortable?" he finally lifted his eyes to Carlisle's, knowing that his must appear even darker than before (if that were possible). He cringed at the wariness that he saw there and shrunk back with shame at the thoughts in his father's head, questioning whether he needed to restrain his son. When he spoke, his words mirrored his mind's uneasiness.

"Edward, I think you need to leave." Edward looked at himself in Carlisle's mind and was shocked at what he saw. The darkest shadows he had ever seen circled his pitch black eyes and his teeth were bared in aggression. He was slowly sinking back onto his haunches.

Seeing this, Edward physically tried to relax. Standing up straight and closing his eyes, he stretched himself out trying to rid himself of the adrenaline he felt pumping through his muscles. How had thinking of Harry's potentially necessary death gotten this sort of a rise out of him? Only once he felt as relaxed as he had earlier did he open his eyes and speak.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle. I don't know what happened there. You just caught me on a bad thought." Edward was relieved to see some of the wariness in his father's posture disappear but wasn't surprised he hadn't totally relaxed.

"What kind of thought? I really think it would be best if you went now, Edward. You're obviously too thirsty to be here, I shouldn't have gotten you to stay." Carlisle said this with such concern and finality that Edward almost obeyed, but turning his attention back to the now broken chair, he knew he couldn't leave without warning his father.

"We need to move again." He said this softly to the crack in the wall but knew Carlisle would hear him. Edward was disappointed at having to leave only a couple of years after arriving. He had grown to like Forks in some way.

Carlisle just looked at his son with confusion. "It's only a chair and a crack in the wall, Edward. I'll come up with some excuse, we don't need to leave because of it. That's a bit drastic. _"_

Edward couldn't help but smile at his father's assumption; he thought he was worried about breaking the chair. While he was still embarrassed by his behaviour and was slightly upset he no longer had a chair to spin in, Edward wasn't really worried about the damage he had caused.

"No, not because of the chair, Carlisle. It's Harry. I think he knows what you are." He turned to look back at Carlisle and was confused to see that there was no hint of concern either on his face or in his thoughts. In fact, he was smiling.

"Did you hear what I said? I think Harry knows that you're a vampire." Still getting no reaction out of his father, Edward folded his arms and fixed him with a glare. "Ok, what is it you're not telling me?"

Keeping the smile plastered on his face, Carlisle spoke. "Oh no, you first. After all, you're the one with the suspicions." He made himself comfortable sitting back down on the edge of his desk and waited for Edward to speak. So speak he did.

Edward told Carlisle all about his theory of why Harry didn't trust him enough to tell him anything, about how if he were some supernatural being he could easily have met vampires before and worked everything out, and about how there was really no option other than for them to leave Forks and make sure that somehow Harry would not reveal their identity. He spoke until he had no more to say and looked into Carlisle's eyes.

Edward was irritated to see that the smile on his father's face hadn't changed during his speech. In fact if anything it had grown larger as he listened to the speculations stream out of his son's mouth and noticed the increase in panic with each sentence. Unable to stand Carlisle's amusement any longer, Edward finally snapped.

"What?! How can you possibly find this amusing? Do you even care that our family's safety could be put at risk because of your patient?! Because it certainly doesn't seem like it to me!" he hissed at his father, whose eyes darkened menacingly.

Slowly pushing himself up into a standing position, Carlisle strode over to stand in front of Edward, never breaking eye contact. Drawing himself to his full height, he brought his face close to his son's and spoke in a calm but dangerous voice. "Do not suggest, Edward, for one second that I do not take the safety of our family seriously. Do you understand?"

There was very little in the world that frightened Edward, but at that moment he was genuinely afraid of his father. His resolve faltered and he took a step back as he said his next words.

"I– I just don't understand why you're not worried about a human knowing." For the second time in just a few minutes, Edward felt like a misbehaving child being told off by his father. He added in a quiet voice, "Of course I understand. We mean everything to you."

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned away and wandered aimlessly around the room.

"I'm sorry, Edward, I shouldn't have snapped. It's been a trialing day for all of us." He moved around to the other side of his desk meaning to sit down before remembering that his son had just destroyed his chair. He settled for resting on the desk like before.

"As for why I'm not concerned, it is simply because I see no reason to be. If Harry has figured out what I am, for which we have no proof in favour or otherwise, then that can only be because he has encountered our type in his past, as you say." He said all this very quickly, clearly in a hurry to reach the point he was trying to make.

"None of us have ever heard of a human fitting his description who knows about the existence of vampires. I believe if he were a threat, the Volturi would know of him and would have… disposed of the threat." At this Edward saw in Carlisle's mind Aro standing over a crumpled heap, his eyes a brilliant red and lips coated in fresh blood.

Edward had to fight hard to control the sudden thirst that burned in his throat at the image of Harry's blood. His fists clenched and eyes screwed shut as he tried to shut out his father's thoughts. Carlisle must have noticed his son's discomfort as the image quickly disappeared and was replaced with his last conversation with Harry.

"We both know that Harry is hiding something, and he's hiding it from me just as much as he is from the other doctors. He wants whatever it is he's hiding to remain a secret just as much as we want our identity to remain secret. I think that I've managed to convince him that no one saw him save those people but I can't be certain.

"If he does know what I am and he thinks that I know nothing about what he can do, then I'm hoping he will not see the need to reveal us. If we are seen to move against him though, intentionally or otherwise, I can't be sure that will hold."

Edward stood in silence, reflecting on everything Carlisle had said. It was true that they had no way of knowing whether or not Harry had figured anything out, but they should at least reciprocate his possible truce by not revealing his secret. With this, Edward grudgingly agreed that it was not necessary for them to move… at least not yet.

"Fine. But if at any point it becomes clear that Harry has figured out what you are, do you promise we'll consider moving?"

Carlisle only hesitated for a millisecond. "I promise that when the time comes we will have a proper discussion with the rest of the family."

Suddenly a new idea came to Edward. He knew Carlisle would never agree to it, but it was worth a try.

"Do you think, perhaps, it might be a good idea to pass Harry into the care of another doctor? Just to keep the chances of him finding anything out as low as possible?"

' _Are you kidding? Harry is the most interesting patient I've had in well over a century, there's no chance I would give him up.'_

Edward couldn't help but smile at his father's enthusiasm for the unknown and he knew the answer to his next question without even needing to ask it.

"What happens now then?"

"Research. We don't have much to go on," he paused. "In fact we have almost nothing at all, but there must be something in my notes that can give some clues."

Carlisle's eyes were lightening ever so slightly with the thought of losing himself amongst the avalanches of books and journals in his study. His mind was already planning possible places to start and soon enough a list began forming in his head of all the books he would read.

"Surely you know by now what most of those say without reading them again," joked Edward, as he watched the pile of books in Carlisle's head grow above seven feet high.

Startled out of his daydream, the image disappeared and Carlisle looked at Edward sheepishly as though he had just been caught in an embarrassing act. If he were human, Edward thought his father would have been blushing.

Collecting himself, Carlisle defended, "A true pursuer of knowledge can find new information even in books he has read in the past." A smirk played on his lips at Edward's unconvinced look. "Even if he's lived for over three centuries and has read it thousands of times before." Edward laughed.

Carlisle stood up from his desk and moved over to his filing cabinet. "I had best get back to work, Edward. I'm sure the others are dying to know what's happened."

"Alice is probably driving them all crazy." Edward could picture Alice racing about the house frustrated at not being able to see anything that was happening. He made to move towards the door. "I'll see you when you get home, Carlisle."

"Yes, see you tonight, Edward." Edward watched as Carlisle's gaze fell back onto the remains of the chair. ' _And I want to talk to you more about_ that _later.'_

Oh good, another father-son chat. Edward merely grunted his understanding and stepped out of his father's office. Boy did he have a story for the others.


	6. Chapter 5

Edward pulled his silver Volvo into the garage of their home and shut off the engine. Leaning back onto the head rest of his seat, he ran over in his mind everything Carlisle had told him that afternoon.

For two years the Cullens had lived in Forks with absolutely no threat to their secret. True the Quileutes were nearby down at the reservation, but they had generally kept to themselves since no one was breaking the treaty. Now all of a sudden in the space of a few hours they were being faced with something both unknown and dangerous to their secret. No matter how sure Carlisle was, Edward still didn't trust Harry.

Why should he? How could Carlisle expect him to put his faith in someone like Harry? The boy had appeared out of nowhere, refused to say anything about himself at all and then turned out to be some ridiculously powerful being with special abilities. And now this same person quite possibly knew of the Cullens' true identity and could reveal them at any moment.

Edward wanted to believe in his father's judgement. Ever since his days of rebellion, he had learned to trust Carlisle and his decisions for the family, but Edward wasn't sure he could muster that level of trust this time. If he couldn't trust his own father's judgement, whose could he?

A light tapping on the driver's window startled Edward out of his thoughts. He turned to look into the small, angry face of his sister, Alice. Her darkened eyes bore into his as she relayed her silent message. _'Oi! You can't just sit in your car all day. Some of us want to know what's going on!'_

Edward sighed and opened his door. "Alright keep your hair on. I'm coming inside." Climbing gracefully out of his seat, Edward felt the rush of wind as Alice darted back into the house to wait for him. He pushed the door shut, pressed the lock button on his key, and slowly made his way out of the garage.

' _Take your time, dear brother. No one's waiting for you or anything.'_ He heard the annoyed thoughts of his sister once more as he opened the front door and made his way through to the living room where the rest of his family were already waiting. Alice had obviously insisted that everyone be there to hear what Edward was going to say, and typically some of them looked like they would rather not be there at all.

Alice was fixing him with her best irritated glare from where she perched on the lap of her husband, who was eyeing Emmett uncomfortably. Following Jasper's gaze, Edward looked at his other brother to see him watching Rosalie hungrily. Arm slung casually over his wife's waist to play with the hem of her blouse, Emmett's mind was filled with images of what Edward's arrival had clearly interrupted. Grimacing at his brother's thoughts, Edward turned to look at the only person in the room who seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

Esme was sitting on the sofa looking at her first son with worry written on her face. Edward hated to see her in such a state, especially when Carlisle wasn't there to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay. Sometimes Edward would do that in his father's place, but he knew that as her son he could never calm her as her husband could.

' _What's happened, Edward? What did Carlisle tell you?'_ When he replied, Edward spoke to her.

"Carlisle found a new patient this morning on his way in to work."

' _Found?'_ the one word reverberated around in Edward's head from the five other vampires sitting in the room. He expanded.

"Just before he came to the main road into town, Carlisle found a boy lying by the side of the road unconscious and badly injured. He put him in the car to drive him to the hospital and has been looking after him ever since."

Esme's thoughts suddenly burst with pride at her husband. ' _That man. What would Forks do without him?'_ Edward smiled at his mother's reaction. There was no doubt in the love that she and Carlisle held for each other. His compassion and her gentle, maternal nature complemented perfectly, and Edward paused briefly to appreciate the couple he was lucky to call his parents.

Alice however did not appreciate the pause and was desperate for him to continue.

"Is that the patient Carlisle was telling me about? The one who got hurt with the scaffolding? What happened to him?" She was rattling off questions so fast Edward put his hands up to stop her, but before he could answer any of her questions, Emmett broke in.

"Ok that's the third time today you've mentioned this damn scaffold. What are you talking about?" Looking around at his family, Edward could see that Emmett wasn't the only one who didn't know the story; Jasper looked equally confused, Esme was beginning to look worried again, and Rosalie still looked like she'd much rather be anywhere than listening to her brother raving on about one of Carlisle's patients. Edward turned to Alice and frowned.

"You didn't bother to tell them?" He asked, harsher than he intended. He had been certain that Alice would have told them every bit of the limited story she knew, or at least told Jasper, but his facial expression and thoughts clearly showed he hadn't been told a thing.

Alice wasn't perturbed by her brother's tone and simply stated, "I didn't want to say anything until you got home with the whole story. It makes much more sense to hear about what happened in order." Relaxing back into Jasper's arms, she gestured for Edward to continue his tale, but Esme cut in before he could open his mouth. Her thoughts were now focused on Harry and what sort of a condition he was in.

"What happened to the boy? Had he been hit by a car?" Her motherly instincts were kicking in and she was quickly becoming anxious. Jasper began shifting restlessly underneath Alice, and Edward could hear the panic in his brother's mind as he absorbed Esme's fear.

Edward quickly shook his head. "No, Carlisle doesn't think so, and seeing him for myself I would probably agree." His thoughts clouded over as he remembered all the cuts and bruises marring Harry's entire body. "He was covered in scars and grazes, some of which looked days or weeks old. Some of them were so… unusual that Carlisle couldn't properly treat them." Esme gasped in despair.

"Oh you don't think the poor dear was neglected, do you? How old is he?"

Edward was unsure how to answer. Carlisle hadn't mentioned anything about the chance of Harry being abused, nor had the idea appeared in his thoughts, but could they really rule out the possibility? After all, Harry had avoided any questions asked about his parents.

"I'm sure it's not that, Esme," he reassured her in a quiet voice. "Harry is in perfectly safe hands at the hospital, and will be better in no time." Edward didn't need to be able to read minds to see that his words had done little to ease his mother's worry. Trying to move on from the depressing – yet potentially realistic – topic, he answered the second part of her question. "At a guess I would think he is about 17."

' _17\. Far too young to be on his own.'_ If his mother still had a beating heart, Edward knew it would be breaking out of despair. He looked at Esme in wonder; how one person could hold so much love and concern for someone she had never met astounded him. She truly was Carlisle's wife.

"Uh, hello? Did anyone hear me say that none of us know about this scaffolding thing? Now would be a good time to explain." Emmett was looking around at the faces of his family, searching for agreement that they wanted to know too. He was disappointed with the response; Alice was fixing Edward with a scrutinising stare while Jasper was still looking pained from Esme's emotions. Rosalie just looked bored. Dissatisfied with the lack of reactions, he fixed his eyes back on Edward.

And so Edward began the story. He told them how Carlisle had tried but failed to get Harry to explain how he had ended up by the side of the road; how they had both watched the structure at the construction site begin to topple with seven people hanging on for dear life. He told them about Harry's escape out of the hospital and onto the street to get closer to the danger, but he stopped when he got up to what Harry did next, finding he couldn't go on.

"Well don't stop there! You can't stop at the climax!" Jasper cried, exasperated. Emmett of course had to ruin the moment.

"That's some solid relationship advice there, Jasper. You hear that, Rose? Never sto–"

"Emmett!" Esme chastised, to which Emmett looked appropriately guilty. Far too used to his brother's antics, Edward continued as though he had never been interrupted.

"It's just… difficult to explain." He grimaced at his own understatement. Difficult to explain. He'd never had anything more ridiculous to explain to his family: a boy that could make solid objects float? Ludicrous.

' _Get on with it, Edward. Or do I have to show you what I'd rather be doing right now?'_ Rosalie fixed a smirk on her beautiful face as an elaborate performance began in her mind. Keen to cut her off before she could get too far into her mental act, Edward spoke.

"Harry stopped the scaffolding from killing those people," he blurted, hoping that if he said everything at once he wouldn't be required to explain it all again. "He pulled something out of his pocket, pointed it at the construction site and suddenly it stopped falling. Harry saved those people's lives," he finished rather lamely.

If Edward thought he was getting disapproving looks from his siblings before, they were nothing compared to the expressions surrounding him now. He was faced with a mixture of confusion and exasperation, as none of them knew quite whether to take him seriously or not. No one spoke until Rosalie summed up everyone's thoughts in four words.

"He's finally lost it," she muttered. Thoughts of agreement spiralled around in Edward's mind from his three other siblings. Of course Esme was the only one not to jump to conclusions about Edward's sanity… at least not yet anyway. She looked at him with confusion etched upon her gentle features.

"Edward…I don't understand. What do you mean he saved them? How could a human boy possibly do that?" Edward couldn't help the chuckle that escaped past his lips.

"Well that's just it, Esme. Human is the operative word here. Carlisle believes – and I agree – that there is something distinctly 'not-human' about Harry." Looking around once more, he was starting to tire of the confused faces and so decided to just keep talking until he had no more to say.

"When Carlisle took me into Harry's room, the first thing I noticed was this aura surrounding him," he began as he paced around the room to work off his pent-up energy. "It reminded me of what it feels like when there's another vampire around, but at the same time was completely different. He's clearly for the most part human because he has a heart-beat and blood flowing through his veins, but I could feel he is immensely powerful.

"There was something else too. I didn't notice it myself because I was trying not to breathe," at this comment a tirade of sympathetic thoughts came to him from his mother. He gave her a brief smile to show her he was fine, and carried on. "But Carlisle mentioned that Harry smelt different to him. Not like a regular human would. Whatever it is that's different about him runs in his blood." He stopped pacing and looked at his feet, waiting for the next set of arguments. "I don't blame you for not believing me. I wouldn't have thought it were possible myself without seeing it in Carlisle's mind."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as each of the Cullen's thought about everything Edward had said. Sure he was known to overreact to things, and he certainly had a not-so-subtle love of winding his family up, especially if it involved his brothers, but this was different. As they watched their brother stand there with his head lowered and shoulders slumped, they couldn't help but believe what he was saying, no matter how impossible it sounded.

Hearing this, Edward added, "Trust me, impossible doesn't even begin to describe it."

"What does Carlisle think?" Edward couldn't help the rush of affection that he felt towards Emmett as he asked that question (which made Jasper raise a confused eyebrow). If Emmett was asking a serious question, Edward knew his family would pay attention now.

"He has no idea either. Harry's given him very little information to work with."

Edward turned to look at his sister, whose thoughts were questioning. ' _But...'_

"I don't understand, Edward. Didn't Carlisle want your help to get information from Harry's mind? Shouldn't you have been able to tell him everything he needed?" Edward had been wondering when his gift's failure would come up.

"I would have if I had anything to tell him." He looked down at his feet once more as the embarrassment returned. "I– I can't read Harry's mind," he murmured to the floorboards. Even though he couldn't see their reactions, he heard the small gasps of surprise from his family. None of them had expected that.

"Hold on a second," Emmett said slowly. "Are you telling me that none of your powers work on this kid? How the hell does he do that?"

Edward just shook his head in response. The only person that could possibly explain was lying on a hospital bed in Carlisle's care and not saying a word.

Jasper began idly playing with Alice's hand as his thoughts strayed to his own powers. ' _I wonder if I could manipulate his emotions…'_ Hearing his brother's thought made Edward wonder the same thing.

"I don't know, Jasper. It would be good to try."

Jasper drew his attention away from his and Alice's entwined hands to nod once at Edward. Alice however eyed her brother suspiciously.

"Is that it? End of the story? Nothing else you want to share?" Edward narrowed his eyes at her. She couldn't possibly have seen his slip in Carlisle's office, right? He had decided to stay well away from that topic. Carlisle had already promised a chat about that later and he didn't feel he needed another one from the rest of his family.

"That's most of it. When the scaffolding fell after everyone was safely off, a piece of metal hit Harry in the head and he needed stitches. He's fine now though," he added quickly at the look on Esme's face. Alice still wasn't going to give in.

"You sure that's everything?"

Edward hesitated. Should he bother mentioning his earlier suspicions about Harry knowing of vampires? Carlisle didn't seem overly concerned, but Edward wasn't convinced of the boy's ignorance.

He looked over at Esme and when he saw the same worry and concern in her eyes, he knew he couldn't say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was to put more worry on her shoulders. He squared his shoulders and looked back at Alice.

"Positive."

"OK!" Whether Alice believed him or not was unclear, as she hopped out of Jasper's lap and pulled him upstairs after her. She obviously deemed the conversation to be over.

Emmett stood up as well but didn't race out of the room like his siblings. Instead, he turned to Edward and asked, "We're still going hunting tonight, aren't we? All of us?" He looked between the other three faces searching for a confirmation. Emmett loved hunting as a family and always made a competition out of who could get the biggest catch. They usually had to stray a bit further north into grizzly territory for it to be any sort of entertainment.

"I don't know, Emmett. Carlisle said he wanted to research tonight to see if he could figure out anything about Harry." Edward told him, already hearing the disappointment in his brother's mind accompanied by an overly dramatic pout on his face.

"Aw. Fine." Looking down at Rosalie, his pout was quickly replaced by a seductive grin as he lifted her up bridal style and flew up the stairs. Their laughter was ineffectively shut off by the slam of a door. It was a shame the door couldn't block their thoughts too.

Esme sighed and stood up from her sofa, moving over to the window. Edward watched her closely.

' _I hope Carlisle can get Harry to talk. He needs someone looking out for him.'_

Edward's silent heart suddenly burst with emotion at his mother's thoughts. She was picturing how she imagined Harry: scared and alone in the world, with no one but his doctor trying to care for him. Edward was relieved she didn't know just how accurate that picture was.

Stepping up behind his mother, Edward wrapped his arms around her small frame and held her close.

"Don't worry, Esme. Everything will be okay."


	7. Chapter 6

' _Kind regards, Doctor Carlisle Cullen.'_

Carlisle hated writing emails. There was nothing more tedious than wasting time writing out whole patient reports on the computer to send to his colleagues when he could just as easily go around to their offices and explain it himself. What happened to the old fashioned way of actually talking to people?

He sighed. Just another thing that had been ruined since technology began to rule everybody's lives.

' _God, I may not look three hundred and sixty, but I certainly sound it.'_

Shutting down his computer, Carlisle began gathering his things together to head home for the night. As he gathered up his patient reports and carried them back over to the filing cabinet, he thought of what he still needed to do. Before he could leave, he was going to speak to Harry again to check on him before he was left to the nurses working that evening, and Carlisle had no idea what to say to him.

He decided that he would try one last time to get Harry to talk before he gave it up for a while. The boy had every right to keep things to himself and Carlisle had no authority to force it out of him, but that didn't mean he didn't wish he could. At first when Harry had refused to say anything about what happened to him or where he came from Carlisle had been frustrated, but now that frustration was turning into concern. _Why_ was he refusing to tell him anything? Was Edward right in saying Harry thought his doctor was an untrustworthy vampire?

Closing the filing cabinet drawer and leaning back against it, Carlisle swept his gaze over his small office. He had cleaned up the damage from Edward's attack on the desk chair, so now there was almost no sign of anything having happened. True, it had taken him some time to get the ruined chair out to the dumpster and bring in the new one he had found in a store room without being seen, but it was worth it considering the alternative was being questioned about the smashed furniture. He hadn't been totally sure how he would explain that one.

Looking up at the clock and seeing that it was already twenty past seven, Carlisle pushed himself up to grab his briefcase off his desk. Flicking the light switch, he let his office plunge into darkness before snapping the door shut. Now out in the corridor, he was back in professional mode and began to make his way to Harry's room, passing out cheery greetings to his colleagues on the way, including a particularly giggly pair of nurses. He was thankful Edward wasn't there to hear their thoughts; Carlisle didn't think he could bear to know.

Hearing someone approaching from around the corner, he was forced to make a show of pretending to accidentally bump into one of his more outgoing co-workers, Simon Morrison, who had helped him in the initial monitoring of Harry. The other doctor looked up in surprise before a huge grin spread across his face, as Carlisle mentally prepared himself for what was sure to be a loud conversation.

"Carlisle!" Simon boomed, causing the heads of those passing to turn in the direction of the two doctors. "What're you doing down this part this late in the day, eh? I thought you'd normally had enough of your patients by now!" Throwing his head back to laugh at his own wit, Simon completely missed the cringe of embarrassment cross his colleague's face.

With every intention of ending the conversation as quickly as possible, Carlisle gave a gentle chuckle before replying, "Actually I've just got one more patient to check in on before heading home. In fact, I'd really best be getting to them now." With a brief smile to close the conversation, Carlisle made to move past Simon. He only managed a couple of steps before he heard an exaggerated gasp over his shoulder.

"You don't mean… _The Mystery Boy,_ do you?" he cried, the amusement and feigned shock thick in his voice.

Carlisle closed his eyes at the title the staff had given Harry. He had heard whispers about it at various times throughout the day and had decided to keep well away from any discussions involving his patient. Grudgingly deciding to play along with Simon's fun, he slowly counted to five before opening his eyes again and turning around.

"Who?"

This time Simon didn't need to fake his shock. "Come off it, Carlisle! I know you spend all day cooped up in that cave you call an office, but surely you must have heard about the kid. He's all anyone's been talking about today."

"I haven't really had the time to visit the staffroom or the cafeteria today, but I do believe I know who you're referring to. Would this be the boy you and I were monitoring this morning?"

Simon's eyes sparkled with mischief as he replied, "Ah, should have known you were only joking, Carlisle. You know everything that's going on around here." At this he gave another hearty laugh. "But yeah, that's the kid. How's he doing? Or won't he even tell you that?" This time Simon clutched his stomach as he doubled over with such intense laughter he couldn't breathe.

' _Well at least he's laughing quietly,'_ Carlisle thought to himself.

"Yes, I'm going to check on Harry again who is getting better as expected. Luckily I don't need him to tell me if he's recovering, I can see that for myself." Carlisle was really beginning to tire of this conversation. All he had wanted to do was check on Harry's condition.

After he had stopped laughing and wiped away a fake tear from his eye, Simon asked Carlisle, "Well, hey, do you want me to come with you? Might be good to see if anyone else can get the kid to talk."

Carlisle paused as though he were considering the other doctor's words, when in actual fact he was thinking about how bad an idea it sounded. Harry was already having issues trusting one doctor. They didn't need to throw a spanner in the works by trying to make him put faith in another doctor he didn't know. They'd have to start all over again.

"Thank-you for the offer, Simon, but I think I'd better see him on my own. We don't want to stress him any more than necessary," Carlisle replied, offering the eccentric doctor a smile.

Simon waved him off. "Ah you're probably right, of course. Don't want to freak the guy out," he agreed, looking at Carlisle expectantly as though he was waiting for him to continue the conversation. When Carlisle remained silent, he turned to leave. "Well don't let me keep you, Carlisle. You go see your mystery kid and I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Simon," Carlisle waved and continued around the corner. Once he was sure he was out of ear-shot, he let out a long sigh.

' _That man. How does he get anything done with the amount he rambles?'_

Hoping for no more distractions, Carlisle quickened his pace slightly to Harry's room. Managing to reach the door without having to speak to anyone else, he opened it quietly and stepped inside.

Harry's bed was empty. Instead, he found the boy standing at the window looking out on to the darkened street, and for the first time since his arrival that morning, Harry looked relaxed. Carlisle wasn't sure if he had realised someone had come in and was just about to clear his throat to speak when Harry did instead.

"Hi," he said simply, still facing the window.

"Hello. You must be feeling better if you're well enough to be out of bed," Carlisle teased lightly, a smile playing on his lips.

Harry turned around and blushed.

"Oh, um, yeah. I just felt like I needed to walk around a bit. That's ok, right?" He asked quickly, as though afraid he was going to get in trouble. Carlisle simply chuckled.

"Of course that's fine, Harry. Just as long as you don't feel light-headed or anything?" he questioned.

"No, I feel pretty good actually. I'm surprised." Harry lifted his hand up to his head as though to feel at his stitches, brushing the hair off his brow in the process. His bare forehead was only visible for a split second before his dark hair fell back into place, but it was long enough for Carlisle to notice the thin scar etched into his skin. He couldn't help himself.

"What's that mark on your forehead? I've not noticed it before."

At this, Harry stiffened.

"I-it's nothing," he stammered as he tried to plaster his hair down with his hand. Carlisle was too curious to accept that as an answer.

"What gave you a scar there, Harry?"

Seemingly satisfied that his forehead was sufficiently hidden, Harry lifted his gaze and glared at his doctor with as much ice as possible.

"I said it's nothing," he replied curtly, effectively bringing the conversation to a close.

Recognising defeat, Carlisle didn't bring it up again. Instead he just added it to the never-ending list of things Harry wouldn't tell him about. He had said he wouldn't pressure him into talking. Things were already going badly.

Carlisle sensed the air of calm dissipate as Harry squared his shoulders and turned back to face the window. His once relaxed posture was now stiff as Carlisle could tell he was putting as much effort as possible into ignoring his doctor.

"Ok, Harry. I won't ask again," he offered, hoping to put Harry at ease. Seeing no change in the boy's stance, he continued. "I just wanted to come and check on how you were going before I left for the evening." At this, he heard Harry sigh as he turned back around to face Carlisle.

"Thanks. Sorry, I'm just a little bit stressed. I'm feeling a lot better, though. In fact," his eyes lightened as he continued with caution, "I'm probably well enough to leave. Really, I feel fine." As if to prove his point, Harry made to move back to the bed, but in his eagerness he moved too quickly as his weak left ankle gave way beneath him. Carlisle threw his arm out to catch Harry before he fell to the ground and helped him back to his feet.

Standing upright again, Harry's face turned a bright shade of scarlet as he murmured his thanks. As though wanting to retain what was left of his pride, he limped the rest of the way back to his bed without assistance and flopped down on to it.

Carlisle had to restrain himself from giving a sarcastic remark. Instead he moved over to stand beside Harry, who was now lying on his back with his hands over his face.

"Harry, I think you and I both know that you should stay here for at least another couple of days. Don't you want to recover fully?" Only getting an unintelligible grunt from Harry's direction, Carlisle continued. "Besides, you haven't given us the names of any one to contact," his voice softened as he approached the delicate subject. "There must be someone who we can inform of your whereabouts."

Adjusting his hands slightly so as to be understood, Harry replied, "There's no one you need to contact. Not really." Carlisle then heard him mutter to himself, "They probably all think I'm dead, anyway."

Carlisle couldn't help his mouth hang open slightly. What on earth had Harry been involved with that would make people assume he were dead? And shouldn't that be a perfect reason to tell them and put them out of their worry?

"Harry, please," he was almost begging now. "There must be someone for us to contact. Your family –" Carlisle stopped as Harry flung his hands from his face and slammed them down by his sides on to the bed. Springing upright, he turned to his doctor, and Carlisle thought he saw something visibly snap in his patient's eyes.

"I DON'T HAVE A FAMILY," Harry yelled, and with a crash the window flew open causing a spine-chilling blast of air to enter the small room. Carlisle stood there frozen. Had Harry done that? He was suddenly hit with a wave of fear as the danger of the situation dawned on him. Carlisle was about to lift his foot to take a step backwards, but upon hearing a hiss of pain he stopped himself and looked at Harry.

The first thing Carlisle noticed was the immediate shift in expression; Harry had clearly been in excruciating pain, his face screwed up in agony, until Carlisle turned around and it was wiped of any previous emotion. As another cool gust of wind swept through the room, Harry looked suddenly fearful, his gaze shifting nervously between Carlisle and the now open window. He had suddenly returned to being the ordinary teenage boy looking like he had been caught misbehaving. Whatever it was that had just happened, Carlisle realised that Harry was terrified of his doctor's reaction. He obviously didn't want Carlisle to put two and two together and figure out he had made the window open.

Wiping the look of shock off his face, Carlisle turned to the window and made a noise he hoped sounded exasperated.

"That window," he murmured as he headed towards it to shut it. "The latches on it have been playing up for weeks now." He closed the window and fastened the handles. Turning back to Harry he smiled. "Every time the wind gets too strong they blow open. It's been driving everybody up the walls."

Carlisle was pleased to see that Harry visibly relaxed at his explanation. He wasn't entirely sure why he was lying to the boy, but something told him that it would not be wise to question him about the window or the pain the boy had experienced. Moving back over to stand beside the bed, Carlisle opened his mouth but was cut off by Harry.

"Please, Doctor Cullen, believe me. There's no need to let anyone know about me. I'm officially of age where I come from and I can look after myself just fine." He paused before whispering to himself, "I'm better off without family."

To say Carlisle was hurt at Harry's words would be an understatement. He's better off without family? Carlisle knew what it was like to be alone, to wander from place to place without anybody for company. He had done it himself for over two hundred years and hadn't realised how much he hated it until he found Edward. Having someone he could call a friend, _a son,_ was the best feeling he had ever felt, rivalled only by the feeling of finding Esme. Carlisle didn't know what he would do without his family. He couldn't possibly understand how Harry could feel he didn't need one.

' _Perhaps that's all he knows. He might have never had a proper family to call his own.'_ The thought depressed Carlisle even further and he knew that if at any point Harry needed help he would be there for him.

"Harry–" he began, but stopped at the look of hurt in Harry's eyes. Knowing that he couldn't continue the conversation without making things more uncomfortable than they already were, he dropped the topic.

"Alright, Harry, we won't talk about it now. But promise me that if you do ever wish to speak to someone, you know that I'll be happy to listen." He looked at Harry and tried to convey as much understanding and compassion as he could through his eyes. Soon the boy's gaze softened and he nodded in acceptance.

"Thank-you, Harry. I'll let you get some rest. If you need anything throughout the night, the nurses will be here to assist you," he told him as he turned towards the door.

"Doctor Cullen?" Carlisle stopped at the sound of his name and turned to face the boy.

Harry was still sitting up but his eyes were looking down at his hands which were fiddling with the sheets on his bed. His eyebrows were furrowed as if in deep thought and he was biting his bottom lip. Slowly he lifted he gaze and opened his mouth as he tried to formulate what he was going to say. Carlisle just waited patiently by the door.

"I had stitches," Harry began slowly, as though still unsure of what he was saying. "There must have been a lot of blood."

Carlisle mentally frowned. He had a vague idea of where this question was headed and he didn't think it was going to be anything good.

"Yes there was. The metal that hit you must have been very sharp. You were quite lucky it didn't cause any permanent damage."

Harry just nodded in response as though he had been expecting that answer. Breathing out, he opened his mouth to continue, as Carlisle braced himself for what he was sure was coming next.

"Did that bother you? The blood?" He looked at Carlisle anxiously as though he wasn't quite sure if he wanted his question to be answered.

' _Edward was right.'_

Carlisle wanted nothing more than to be able to come up with a response that would make Harry drop his suspicions. But what is there to say to a boy who has discovered a secret of this magnitude? Deciding it best not to answer the question directly, Carlisle put a smile on his face and replied "I'm a doctor, Harry. Why should a little blood bother me?"

Getting no response from Harry and wanting to leave before he did, Carlisle assumed the conversation to be over and opened the door.

"Goodnight, Harry."

Stepping out into the corridor and pulling the door shut behind him, Carlisle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

' _Great. Now I have to explain to my family why a human knows about us. That will be a fun chat.'_

Sighing, he began to make his way out of the hospital and to his car, unable to prevent from rolling around in his thoughts the one phrase that could divide his family.

 _Harry knows._


	8. Chapter 7

Carlisle put his foot down to the floor as he raced down the darkened highway towards the drive that led off to his family's house. The Mercedes groaned in appreciation as it was pushed to its limits and swept smoothly onto the small, winding road. As he steered around the twists and turns that lead up to the house, Carlisle tried to keep his thoughts on something that would not rouse suspicion from Edward, but he couldn't help his mind wander to the subject he was coming to discuss with his family.

' _What's the point in pretending? He will have heard it by now. Best to just get this over with.'_

Pulling swiftly into the garage beside the numerous other vehicles his children owned, Carlisle gathered himself together and stepped out of his car. Unsurprisingly, Edward was there waiting for him.

"He _knows?!"_ Edward hissed, putting as much venom into the two words as possible. "I thought you said we didn't have to worry about this? That I was overreacting?" He glared at his father with as much disgust as he could muster.

"And we don't," Carlisle was quick to defend. He was unfazed by his son's reaction; he had expected nothing less. "I know there isn't very much that I can say to you to make you believe me, but I need you to trust me." He looked at Edward in the eyes as he said this, trying to believe his own words. "Let's go inside and talk to everyone."

Carlisle left the garage and began walking towards the front landing. He could already hear his family making their way to the living room where they normally held their family meetings, and he sensed Edward silently following behind him. He opened the front door and headed through to where everyone was waiting. He almost turned and walked out again.

Guilt washed over Carlisle at the sight of his family's faces: Emmett and Alice both looked upset and concerned about what had happened. Rosalie of course looked furious; Carlisle wasn't looking forward to facing her on the matter. Jasper looked as though he were going to be ill from all the emotions swirling around the room, to which Carlisle's sudden guilt couldn't be helping. But it was the last face that broke his silent heart; Esme was seated on one of the loveseats with her arms wrapped around herself, her face showing the emotional distress she was clearly going through. Carlisle would have done anything to race over there and comfort her, but he knew that in order to get some members of his family to listen to him he would need to be in a position of authority, and cuddled on the loveseat with his wife wasn't very high up on that scale. Instead, Carlisle stayed where he was and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by one of his children.

"So, we're leaving then?" Emmett asked in a voice so sombre that Carlisle wouldn't have believed it had been him who spoke had he not been looking right at his son.

"No," Carlisle was quick to affirm. "We're not going anywhere."

"Carlisle," Rosalie began as she jumped to her feet. "A human knows. We're all in danger by staying here, surely you of all people realise that!"

His daughter's words stung; that was the second time today one of his children had questioned his ability to do what was best for his family. Though it had been more shocking coming from Edward than it was Rosalie, it was hard to hear all the same. He only had one chance to convince them all of what he was thinking.

"This time is different. I have reason to believe that Harry has met vampires before," Carlisle explained cautiously. The silence that followed was more telling than words. He hurried on before any of them could interrupt. "I believe if that is the case, then he would not have been able to go about his life if he were a threat to our kind. The Volturi would have made sure of that," he added coldly.

At this Edward finally made himself visible, walking in from the main entranceway.

"Carlisle, the Volturi might not even know about Harry. He might be using his abilities to remain undetected. The fact that I can't read his mind and Alice can't see his future should be enough of a concern to warrant us leaving."

Carlisle turned to look at Edward with disapproval on his face.

' _Why are you trying to worry everyone?!'_ he thought angrily.

"Why are _you_ trying to convince everyone there's nothing wrong?" Edward snapped back at him.

Carlisle let out a sigh and tried again.

"Look. I know that usually in this situation we'd already be half way across the country, but this time is different. Harry is someone – some _thing_ – that we've never come across before. I trust him to keep our secret." Again he was confronted with disbelieving faces. Rosalie fought back.

"You can't be serious! Carlisle, you don't know him. You're putting your faith in someone whose mind, as Edward said, is completely closed off from us. I thought you had better judgement that that!" She spat these last words at him and fixed him with a look that was almost… disappointed?

"Rosalie," a small voice scolded. It was the first word Esme had spoken since Carlisle's return, and he was grateful that she was coming to his defence… well, kind of.

"It's alright, Esme," he assured in a quiet voice. Turning to look into the eyes of his first daughter, Carlisle prepared to give his final word on the subject before he would call the discussion over.

"Rosalie," he began confidently, "I believe Harry is different. That he is special. There is no more that I can tell you about him than what you have already heard from Edward earlier today. Until I learn more, you will have to trust my judgement, which might I remind you has never led us into danger before."

After his speech he looked around the room once more. Alice, Jasper and Emmett each looked convinced. Edward simply gave a resigned sigh and leant back against the wall pinching the bridge of his nose. Carlisle switched his eyes to Esme's and saw that she was smiling her brilliant smile at him; she would always trust him, even when no one else did. His heart soared at the thought. Not even the furious look on Rosalie's face could ruin the effect Esme's happiness had on him.

"Ugh, whatever! Be it on your head," she muttered as she stalked past him. "Are we going hunting or not?" She demanded before running out into the night.

"Finally!" Emmett cheered, and followed his wife out the door.

Jasper got up next and Alice made to follow but not before turning to smile at her father.

"Don't worry, Carlisle. I may not be able to see Harry, but I can't see anything that shows our secret being revealed," she assured him with a smile.

"Thank-you, Alice," he replied, grateful that there was something to support his decision to stay. Alice gave him a quick hug and raced out to follow the others.

Feeling a hand come down on his shoulder, Carlisle turned to find Edward smiling at him.

' _Wait. Edward's smiling? What happened to the world being about to end?'_

"Ha ha," Edward rolled his eyes. "Never mind what I think. And don't worry about Rosalie. She's just frustrated that she can't argue with you."

' _Never mind what you think?'_ Edward ignored him. ' _Well then I had better not give her the means to do so.'_

"Mm," Edward murmured. He turned to walk out and as he did, Carlisle noticed the worry from before return to his face. Carlisle frowned.

"They do trust you, dear." Carlisle turned to see his beautiful wife smiling up at him, but even being alone with her couldn't alleviate him of the worry that plagued him.

"What if I _am_ wrong?" He whispered in a voice that only she would be able to hear. Esme always knew how to make him feel better, and he needed that now more than he had in a very long time.

"You always do what you believe is best for this family, and if you think staying is what's best then I trust you," she whispered back in a voice equally as soft.

"But what if I –" he was cut off by a small finger being pressed to his lips. Esme leant forward until she was only an inch from his face.

"You're not wrong," she repeated as she removed her finger from his lips and kissed him quickly.

Needing the comfort of her lips, Carlisle grabbed Esme's waist and pulled her close, pressing their mouths together once more. This kiss was more passionate than the brief one before, and Carlisle felt himself snap out of his melancholy temporarily. Nothing seemed to exist except for him and Esme sharing this moment as he could almost forget about the mysterious boy back at the hospital and the stress put upon his family.

Too soon, the kiss was over, and cold air rushed over Carlisle's lips. With their foreheads pressed together, he kept his eyes closed in a vain attempt to hold onto the feeling of his wife's comfort.

"As much as I enjoyed that, I shouldn't keep them all waiting," Esme let out in a low voice filled with desire. Carlisle couldn't help the pout that formed on his face, to which Esme laughed. "Now Doctor Cullen, don't you have work that you need to be doing?" She teased.

Suddenly research didn't seem quite so interesting.

"Only if by 'work' you mean _you_ , Mrs Cullen," he growled seductively.

"Ugh! Esme are you coming or should we leave you to it?" Edward's voice carried inside from the front yard, the disgust clear in his voice. Carlisle and Esme both laughed and separated in order to prevent themselves from scarring their son any further.

' _Sorry, Edward,'_ Carlisle thought.

"No, you're not."

Carlisle laughed.

' _You're right. I'm not really.'_

Esme laughed once more before calling out that she would be there soon.

"Go on, Carlisle. I know you've been dying to do research since you got home. I'll come check on you later," she promised with a quick wink.

"I'll hold you to that, love. Have a nice hunt." Carlisle gave her another quick peck on the lips before she dashed off to join her children. Once he heard them run off into the forest, Carlisle let out a sigh and flashed up to his office. Closing the door behind him, he looked at his collection of books and nodded.

' _Right then. Research.'_

* * *

 _3 hours later_

Nothing.

That was what Carlisle's efforts had produced during the last several hours. After reading almost all his books on mythology, human evolution, and the laws of physics, he had found nothing that could possibly explain the boy waiting for him back at the hospital. Sighing with frustration, Carlisle closed his eyes and leaned his head back in his chair.

His office was a mess; there were books strewn all over the floor and his desk, and they were piled up so high he couldn't even see over them to his office's door. There were very few books left sitting in their shelves, as Carlisle had tried anything that could even vaguely be related; he had even read his old science fiction novels.

Perhaps he should take his lack of discovery as a sign that this wasn't how he was supposed to learn about Harry. If there was nothing in any literature then maybe he was simply meant to wait until Harry found the confidence to tell him himself. Or maybe Carlisle just wasn't meant to know the truth about the boy; he sincerely hoped this wasn't the case.

Carlisle was pulled out of his musings by a soft knock at the door. His family had returned from hunting almost two hours ago but they hadn't bothered to interrupt. They all knew that when he got into his research he could be unreachable for several hours. Once it had been three days before they had managed to pull him from his books.

"Come in," he called around the piles of journals on his desk.

He heard the door open and then close again as the sweet scent of his wife's perfume filled the office.

"Reached a slump have you?" Esme's face appeared suddenly peering from behind all the books. She was smiling at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You could say that," he confirmed as he motioned for her to sit on his lap. "How was hunting?"

"Oh you know, the usual. The boys bickering about who got the biggest catch, that sort of thing…" she trailed off, biting her bottom lip.

"Except?" Carlisle prompted.

Esme just shook her head. "It's probably nothing. It's to be expected that tempers will flare a bit with the added stress at the moment," she explained with a sad expression. Now Carlisle was concerned.

"What happened, Esme?"

She sighed. "It started with something silly. Edward claimed that Rosalie stole his mountain lion and that got them bickering, nothing worse than how they usually might. But then they got personal." She paused and the worry she was clearly feeling was now displayed on her face. "Rosalie started blaming Edward that he couldn't read Harry's mind, saying that if only he could we wouldn't be in this mess. He defended himself by pointing out that Alice's gift didn't work either and then _she_ got angry at being dragged into it. Emmett and Jasper tried to calm down the girls but Rosalie must have thought something awful because… oh Carlisle!" she cried and buried her head in her husband's shoulder.

Carlisle wrapped his arms around Esme and begged her to continue. "What did Edward do?" He was afraid of the answer.

"H-he snapped. He ran at her and pulled her away from Emmett," she explained, her voice now dropping to a whisper. "They fought. It was horrible! The two of them trying to hurt each other. When they were pulled apart, Edward ran off. He hasn't come back." Her voice trembled as she finished her tale and Carlisle closed his eyes.

He didn't understand what had gotten into Edward lately; first his loss of control at the hospital and now attacking his family. He had been sullen and angry ever since he had suspected Harry had figured out their identity, and had become even more so since it had been confirmed. It didn't help that he and Rosalie had a knack for stirring each other up, and she was also part of the problem here. But Edward's temper was becoming a serious problem, one that Carlisle would have to talk to him about when he returned.

He opened his eyes again and looked into the worried face of his wife.

"Is Rosalie alright?" he asked. He knew she wouldn't be hurt, but Esme knew he was asking whether she had calmed down.

"She and Emmett have gone to spend the night somewhere else to get some space. They at least told me when they'd be back," she added, concern thick in her voice.

"I'll have a word with her when she returns, then. Now is not the time for her to be riling up Edward."

"What's the matter with him, Carlisle? He's not been himself today." Her motherly love for all her children was stronger than most people would understand, but like Carlisle she had a soft spot for their first son.

Carlisle just shook his head in response. He had no better idea than her about Edward's recent behaviour. He had thought that the problem at the hospital had been his thirst, but if he was still losing his temper spontaneously _after_ hunting…

"I'll speak to him. Whenever he comes back," he trailed off. He couldn't help but feel that this was partially his fault. If only he hadn't found Harry on his way to work –

' _No,'_ he thought to himself. ' _If I hadn't found Harry this morning, who knows how long it would have been until someone else drove past. It could have been too late by then.'_ He outwardly shuddered at the thought.

Carlisle was pulled from his depressing thoughts by another knock at his door.

' _Now what's happened?'_

"Come in," he called.

He heard the door quickly open and waited for someone to appear around the piles of books as Esme had done, but no one did. He could sense that it was Alice.

"Carlisle? Esme? I just wanted to tell you that Edward will be back in five minutes," she reported to them. "He's still not in a very good mood, by the way, so good luck."

Carlisle sighed in exasperation. ' _Great,' h_ e mused, ' _just what I need.'_

"Thank-you, Alice," Esme replied, obviously realising her husband was not going to respond. The door clicked shut, leaving them alone once again.

"Carlisle, talk to me. Why on earth are you feeling guilty about this?" Having been married for over 80 years, it was difficult for either of them to hide something from the other for very long.

Carlisle didn't answer straight away. Instead he busied himself by playing with Esme's hand. He entwined his fingers in hers and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing each of her fingers. He held his lips longer to the wedding and engagement rings that she wore; Esme never took them off. Disentangling their hands, Carlisle reached up and gently brought Esme's mouth to his for a brief second, seeking some of the comfort she so lovingly provided.

"Just the usual. You know how much I love to blame myself for everything," he whispered against her lips with a light chuckle.

"You shouldn't –" she began to argue, but was cut off by the slamming of a door downstairs.

"I think Edward's home," she sighed.

' _Right then, let's get this over with. Edward could you come upstairs, please? I'd like to have a word,'_ he sent the nonverbal message to his son, who had just begun to loudly ascend the stairs. Esme carefully extricated herself from her husband's lap so as he could stand. Together they quickly emptied the desk of books so as Edward would be visible when he came in.

Carlisle sat back down in his desk chair just as Edward opened the office door. Looking at his son from behind his now spotless desk, he could see that Edward's eyes had barely changed colour. If anything there was only a subtle reduction in the intensity of the blackness from what it had been earlier, indicating that while he had clearly had _something_ on their hunting trip it hadn't been enough.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at her, she angered me at the time, I know I shouldn't have done it and I've learned my lesson," Edward drawled in a monotonous voice. He made a show of going to leave the room until his mother cut him off.

"Edward," she scolded. "Your father has asked to speak with you and so you will not leave until he says you may. And as for that apology…" she didn't even bother admonishing him for that. She just shook her head.

Carlisle looked up at his son and couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, it was because of his stubbornness at refusing to hand Harry over to another doctor that they had landed in this mess. Had he swapped himself for another doctor after the initial incident with the construction site, he could have limited his involvement in Harry's treatment and possibly avoided him discovering their secret.

Whatever light had returned to Edward's eyes vanished at hearing these thoughts. The impenetrable darkness returned and with it a snarl.

"Of course this is your fault! How long has it taken you to work that one out?" He growled. "Rosalie blames me but I'm just a part of this. You're the one who started it all with your inept ability at keeping out of things that should be left alone."

Carlisle just stared, dumfounded. Edward had obviously been bottling his anger up all day, and Carlisle finally understood what he had meant by his earlier comment;

' _Never mind what I think.'_

Of course he had still been angry; that much was obvious from the look on his face as he left to go hunting. Whatever Rosalie had said in her mind was clearly just what was needed to tip him over the edge and express his anger and disapproval at how Carlisle had managed the situation. And of all the things Edward could criticise him for…

"You're blaming me for being curious? Edward, are you honestly telling me that you have no interest in finding out what Harry could be?" He couldn't understand how anyone could not wonder how Harry saved those people earlier.

"I did until he discovered what you were, Carlisle. Now funnily enough the main thing I care about is protecting our family, so why the hell don't you?"

Before he knew it, Carlisle was face to face with Edward, not dissimilar to how they had stood briefly in his hospital office. The study and Esme disappeared as Carlisle's senses were filled with nothing but the black, callous stare of Edward and the rage pumping loudly in his ears. His mind emptied, refusing to give his son the satisfaction of hearing how much his words had hurt. Instead he puffed out his chest with defiance and opened his mouth with the intention of putting Edward in his place, but before he could get the words out he was being pushed back by a blur of caramel curls.

"That's enough, both of you!" Esme cried. She had placed herself in between them both, the two most important men in her life who were now preparing to tear each other apart. "Edward, you shouldn't say things like that to your father. You know he cares about this family more than anything else," she admonished in a calm voice. "And you," the caramel curls turned around and Esme's face looked in to Carlisle's.

"This isn't the way to do this. You're better than that," she whispered to him, her hand coming up to tuck a lock of blond hair that had dislodged itself back behind his ear. Looking into her shining golden eyes, Carlisle was brought back to reality, and the anger he had felt towards Edward dissipated leaving a hollowness in its place. He leaned down and gave Esme a quick kiss on the forehead before turning away and closing his eyes.

"Of course, Esme. Edward I –"

 _Riiiiing riiiiing_

' _It has to ring right now, doesn't it?'_

Sighing, he fished the phone out of his pocket and answered it.

"Hello, Doctor Cullen speaking."

" _Ah Carlisle, it's Murray. Sorry to call you so late but it's an emergency."_ Murray was the resident they had working that evening, and Carlisle could tell just by the young man's voice that, whatever had happened, Murray felt way out of his depth.

"Don't worry, Murray. What's happened?" he asked in a calm voice. Maybe if Murray heard Carlisle was composed, he might calm down a bit himself.

It didn't work.

" _I-it's your patient, sir. Harry Potter? Well, I don't really understand. No one has said exactly what happened. There was just so much glass a-and blood and so the police are coming and_ – _"_

Carlisle froze. Glass? Blood? Had someone attacked Harry? Is that why the police had been called? He turned around to look back at Edward and Esme who were frowning in anger and worry respectively. Carlisle vaguely realised that Murray hadn't stopped speaking and was slowly getting more agitated as he went on.

"– _because you're his doctor, and so –"_

"Murray, just tell me what's going on. What's wrong with Harry?"

" _H-he's gone."_


	9. Chapter 8

_Earlier_

' _What. An. Idiot.'_

These words kept reverberating around inside Harry's head as he reflected on his latest meeting with Doctor Cullen.

' _You may as well have said the words, "Hey, I've worked it out, you're a vampire". He's probably going to come and kill you in your sleep.'_

Harry thought about locking his door but then realised that a locked door was hardly going to stop a vampire on a rampage. He laughed at his own stupidity.

"Idiot," he said aloud to the empty room as he threw himself back down on to his pillow. It had been at least three hours now since that discussion and Harry couldn't relax. He was certain that Doctor Cullen knew he was the reason the windows had open earlier despite the man's insistence on the faulty latches; the window hadn't opened since and it was just as windy as it was before.

Why was he suddenly losing control? He hadn't had any bursts of accidental magic from anger in years, and suddenly now, when it was most important to act like a Muggle, his magic was betraying him. He couldn't pretend to be normal when windows were suddenly flying open by themselves in his presence, and he hadn't missed the brief look of fear that crossed Doctor Cullen's face when it had happened. The only question was whether the vampire knew that it was magic.

Harry assumed not, as he was quite sure that Doctor Cullen lived separate of the magical world, having given no reaction at being the doctor of _The Boy who Lived._ Harry let out another sardonic laugh at his old title.

"If only they could see their hero now," he scoffed: lying in a hospital bed in the middle of America with no idea what was going on at Hogwarts.

The sneer dropped from his face as he thought of his school. That was what was driving him insane: not knowing. It was just like when Ron and Hermione were with the Order before the start of their fifth year, while he was holed up with the Dursleys, chased by Dementors, and nearly getting expelled. But this was worse; this time he had no contact at all with his friends and he couldn't bear it.

Harry stood up in frustration and stormed around the room.

"Curse this stupid hospital and its stupid doctors," he muttered as he kicked the foot of his bed. "Curse that stupid construction site," he kicked it again, harder. Ignoring the pain in his foot, he raged on.

"All because of those stupid Death Eaters I have to deal with _this_. All of this rubbish," he cried, throwing his arms out at his surroundings. "Stupid vampires asking me questions every second. I'm sick of it!" With this, Harry kicked his bedside table so hard that it was tipped clear of everything on top, including a plastic cup full of water one of the nurses had left him. It clattered to the floor, spilling its contents all over his feet. This just made him angrier.

"That's it, I've had enough! I want OUT!" A wave of magic erupted from Harry with his rage as another blast of cold air rushed into the room. The windows flung open once again, this time with such force that they smashed against the walls, raining broken glass onto the floor. More glass fell from the ceiling as the light fittings shattered one by one, plunging the room into darkness.

When the magic surged out of his body, Harry had collapsed to the ground in agony. Breathing heavily and still seething, Harry reached into his pocket for the Elder Wand and was just about to disapparate when he stopped.

What was he doing? Every time he cast magic he felt like he was being electrocuted. The sheer pain that coursed through his body was excruciating, spreading down his spine and out into his limbs. What had happened to him? Was this just the effects of utter and total exhaustion, or was this something more sinister? Just holding his wand he could feel his magic tingling painfully in his hand, itching to be released.

Apart from not wanting to experience the pain again, Harry had no idea what the situation back home was. For all he knew the Death Eaters had reign of the castle and he'd be apparating straight back into their clutches. The same applied to the Ministry. He just needed some way of knowing what to do.

Harry dropped his wand on the floor and landed back on his bed with a soft _fwump_. Grabbing fistfuls of hair, he scrunched his eyes shut and tried to supress the desire to cry out in frustration. A true feeling of hopelessness had settled on his heart, made worse by the fact he was now freezing from the cold air that was blowing through the room.

Sitting upright, Harry looked around the dark room. The only light he could see by was the soft glow from the hallway behind the frosted glass of the door and of the streetlight outside the window. Looking at the mess he had made, he frowned. Why hadn't anyone come to check on him? It had to have been impossible for all of the breaking glass to go unheard by any of the doctors or nurses, but not even a cleaner had poked his head through the door to see what had happened. They were clearly understaffed.

Deciding to investigate, Harry let out a heavy sigh and stood up off the bed. The broken glass from the lights above crunched beneath his feet as he made his way over to the door. He put his ear against the small gap between the door and its frame only to hear silence on the other side. He opened the door just enough to poke his head out and turned his head to look left and right down the corridor but saw no one.

' _That's strange. I thought there was always supposed to be someone out here on their rounds.'_

Mentally shrugging to himself, Harry brought his head back into the room and shut the door softly before resting his head against it. Now he had to come up with a way to explain the mess when someone _did_ bother to come and find him. Steeling himself for a long night, Harry opened his eyes and noticed the door was glowing with a strange white hue. He raised his hand up to the door and was alarmed when it formed a shadow, telling him that whatever was creating this light was in the room behind him.

He reached into his pocket to find his wand before he remembered he had dropped it beside his bed. Cursing himself quietly, Harry turned around.

What he saw made him equally thrilled and terrified.

In the middle of the room hovering about a metre above the floor was a silver lynx made of light.

A patronus.

 _Kingsley._

Harry stared wide-eyed at the glowing creature, not even daring to blink in case it disappeared. This was what he had wanted, what he _needed_ so as to plan his escape. Still hardly daring to believe it was real, Harry approached it slowly and stopped when it began to speak.

"Harry?"

Harry couldn't breathe. Kingsley's deep voice filled the room, resonating inside his skull. He had been starting to wonder if he would ever hear a magical voice again.

"I'm hoping this has found you, Harry, and that you're not – wherever you are you need to return. I need you to apparate directly into my office before 7am. If you don't, we may have to assume the worst. 7am, Harry, to my office. Speak to no one else." The voice faded into nothing and the lynx evaporated, plunging the room into darkness once more.

It took Harry a while to remember to breathe. They'd found him. They had _actually_ found him. Harry wanted to laugh and punch the air in triumph. Finally he had a plan to follow, something that he could actually do to get home again.

' _What time is it?'_

Turning around from the spot where the patronus had been, Harry searched for the digital clock that had been on his bedside table. He spotted it lying face down on the floor in the puddle of water that he had spilled in his rage.

' _Uh oh.'_

Harry rushed over to it and knelt down to pick it up, but he knew it was broken before he'd even turned it upright. Staring at the black screen, he cursed his own stupidity and set it back down on the table. Now how was he supposed to know the time? There was no other clock in the room and his own watch had stopped working after jumping off the dragon's back and into the water after escaping from Gringotts. His only hope was that there was one somewhere nearby out in the corridor.

Harry made his way quickly back over to the door and had a brief listen at the gap again. Hearing nothing on the other side, he opened the door and looked out into the hall. He saw nothing down to his left, but when he turned to his right he saw a small analogue clock in the distance, too far for him to read from the safety of the doorway. He'd have to venture out into the main hospital.

Just as he was about to step out of his room, a doctor came around the corner with his head looking down at a clipboard. This was the only thing that prevented him from seeing Harry fling himself back into his room and close the door. He didn't dare move until he heard the doctor carry on past the door and his footsteps disappear down the hall.

' _That was too close.'_

He had to figure out a way to find out the time. If it was well before 7am then he could wait a while longer at the hospital until it was more pressing for him to leave, and if it was after seven… well he would worry about that if he had to.

He knew that Doctor Cullen had last visited him at about 7:30pm and that was only a few hours ago. Harry scoffed at his realisation. What was he worried about? 7am was hours away. He still wanted to know the exact time though for comfort's sake.

Walking out into the hallway was too risky, so Harry cast his eyes around the room to see if he could find anything that would help him read the clock from his doorway. His eyes came to rest upon the Elder Wand lying on the floor by his bed. There was probably some spell that existed that would tell him the time but of course he didn't know it. Hermione probably would. Thinking of his friend made his head hurt.

Harry walked over to the wand and bent down to pick it up. He knew what he had to do, not liking it one bit.

' _Well if I can't get to the clock, then I'll just have to bring the clock to me.'_

Crunching his way back over the broken glass to the door, he poked his head out and gave the corridor a once over. Satisfied that he could neither see nor hear anyone in the vicinity, he pointed the wand down to his right, braced himself for the pain that was sure to come and whispered;

" _Accio_ clock."

The clock leaped off the wall and sailed down the hall towards Harry, who had fallen in the doorway but managed not to cry out. Quickly snatching it out of the air, he fell back in to his room, shut the door and collapsed against it, breathing deeply. The pain didn't take as long to subside this time, and when it did Harry finally got to look at the time.

 _10:43pm_

Harry instantly relaxed. He still had over eight hours until he had to be in Kingsley's office. Tossing the clock onto his bed, he made his way over to the now permanently open window and looked out into the night.

He remembered vaguely that it had been night time when he arrived in America; that brief view of where he landed had told him that much. That meant he had been gone for about 24 hours. Harry sighed and rested his arms on the window sill. Anything could have happened in the space of a day; his current situation was proof of that. So much had transpired in the hours since he had defeated Voldemort in the Great Hall. He reluctantly let his mind look back at the last thing he remembered; the sheer terror on his friends' faces had been clear, lit up by the first rays of the morning sun that streamed in through the enchanted ceiling.

' _Wait…morning…'_

Harry's eyes snapped open. Yes, it had been morning at Hogwarts when he left. But, it had been night time when he arrived in America. How did that –

' _Idiot.'_

He had completely forgotten about the concept of time zones.

Harry spun on his heels away from the window intending to get back to the clock, but he turned too quickly on top of the broken glass and his feet flew out from underneath him. He threw out his hands to catch himself and cried out in pain as shards of glass cut deep into his palms. Gritting his teeth in both anger and pain, he ripped the tiny daggers from his hands which were now dripping blood and threw them to the floor. Carefully pushing himself back up on to his feet, he scrambled over to the bed and picked up the clock again.

 _10:48pm_

What time was it in London? How many hours behind was he here in Forks? He didn't even know what part of the country he was in, east or west. He prayed that London wasn't any more than eight hours ahead or else it would be after 7am.

He discarded the now bloodied clock back onto the bed and made his way around the room a little more carefully than before to look for anything the doctors might have taken off him. He picked up the soiled jumper that Doctor Cullen had showed him that morning; he didn't want to leave any trace of himself behind. Despite the fear and anxiety, Harry had no other option left. He had no idea how he had managed to apparate such a distance before, and all he could do now was pray he could do it again. Casting his eyes one last time around the room, he pulled the Elder Wand out of his pocket, and thought about his destination.

' _Kingsley's office, London.'_

Harry turned on the spot and with a crack and a scream he was gone.


	10. Chapter 9

"I'm on my way."

Hanging up his phone and shoving it back into his pocket, Carlisle dashed about the room searching for his briefcase which was hidden somewhere among the hundreds of books.

' _Argh, where is it?'_

He stopped as he saw out of the corner of his eye Edward holding it in his hands, offering it out to him. Carlisle nodded his thanks and looked briefly into his son's eyes and saw that they had not lost any of their hostility. Knowing that Edward's anger was still directed at him, Carlisle felt the need to add in his mind,

' _I'm still not finished speaking with you about this, Edward. I just hope whatever has happened doesn't create too many more complications.'_

Giving no indication that he had heard his father's thoughts, Edward simply walked out. The only thing that assured Carlisle that Edward had received the message was the faint "We'll see" he heard drift from down the hall.

"Carlisle," he turned his head to look at Esme's terrified face. "What's happened? What if Harry's been –"

"Shh," Carlisle soothed as he moved forward to wrap his arms around his wife's delicate frame. "I'm sure that whatever has happened, Harry is just fine." He could tell his words were doing nothing to soothe her worry; she didn't need Edward or Jasper in the room to know that Carlisle didn't even believe his own words.

"Go. Hurry and find out what's happened. Go and find Harry," she said, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. Carlisle smiled and kissed her quickly on the forehead.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

The rest of the house passed by in a blur as he raced out to the Mercedes. Jumping in, Carlisle threw the car into reverse and slammed on the accelerator. The tyres screeched as he skilfully spun around to face the narrow drive and floored it.

As he drove, Carlisle's mind repeated every shocking detail from the call: Harry was missing. They had found blood and glass. No one knew what had happened.

 _Harry is missing._

 _Blood._

Carlisle didn't want to think about what it could mean. Had Harry been kidnapped? Attacked in his sleep and taken?

' _Please, no.'_

Carlisle shook his head; surely the boy would be able to defend himself. He had proven himself capable of saving lives, so he must have been able to save his own were it necessary.

No. Carlisle didn't believe that anyone would be able to break in and take Harry without someone at the hospital noticing. Harry's powers were clearly tied to his emotions and Carlisle assumed that if he became scared enough, Harry could lose control just as he had let slip earlier in his anger.

Carlisle knew what Edward would think; he would say that Harry ran, terrified of what he had discovered and determined to reveal their secret. Carlisle didn't want to believe that. He still trusted Harry, though he wasn't quite sure why. Rosalie's voice reverberated in his mind;

" _You don't know him. You're putting your faith in someone whose mind, as Edward said, is completely closed off from us."_

Yet Carlisle couldn't shake the feeling of trust he had built up when it concerned Harry. The only way to know if his faith was misdirected, as his family believed, was to get to the hospital and see for himself.

Switching off his headlights to avoid detection, he pressed his foot down to the floor and the Mercedes rumbled down the deserted road.

* * *

Carlisle arrived at the hospital in record time, pulling into his car park and dashing inside. Struggling to keep himself going at human pace, he hurried through the corridors heading for Harry's room. As he got closer he could hear a number of voices all talking over each other, but one voice was closer than the others.

"Yes, he's been called. I'll head out to meet him at the – Carlisle!" Simon appeared from around the corner and was clearly surprised at how quickly his colleague had arrived.

"Simon, what's happened? Where's Harry?" Despite the man's exuberance, when the time arose Simon wasn't one to mess around. That also meant he was not likely to question Carlisle on his impossibly fast arrival at the hospital.

"No one really knows what's happened, Carlisle," he began as they both made their way to Harry's room. "The nurses say they checked on him at ten o'clock and he was fast asleep, but when they went to check again at eleven, the room was a mess and Harry was nowhere to be seen."

Carlisle looked down at his watch: 11:18pm. Harry hadn't been seen since ten. If he had gone shortly after that he could be miles away already.

"Murray said something about blood and glass." They had reached Harry's door, but before Carlisle could open it Simon stepped in his way.

"Yeah, there is. The room's a mess, Carlisle, you might want to…" he searched for the right word but just shook his head. Carlisle could see him bristling with nervous energy. "Just brace yourself. It's nasty."

Before he had even seen into the room Carlisle smelt it: blood. And it was definitely Harry's. Simon opened the door fully and stepped aside to allow Carlisle to enter first. Stepping into the room, the first thing he noticed was that it was being lit by several fluorescent surgery lamps placed around the perimeter. Under the intense light the floor glittered, and looking up at the ceiling Carlisle saw the burst light fittings. The window on the far wall was shattered, the frames left swinging sadly in the cool breeze. He could just imagine glass raining down on Harry as his temper flared and he lost control.

The further into the room he walked, the stronger the smell of Harry's blood became, but Carlisle couldn't see from where it was coming from until he got to the bed. A small clock sat on the foot of the mattress, its face and edges covered in bloody hand prints that matched Harry's. Moving closer towards the window, he directed his gaze down to the floor where the largest shards of glass were. There was one part of the floor beneath the windowsill that was stained darker than the rest, and Carlisle knelt down to get a closer look. From this angle, he could see it had a deep red tint to it which gave it away immediately as more of Harry's blood. He had obviously cut himself on the glass; presumably his hands which would explain the bloody handprints covering the clock. Carlisle stood up and turned back around to face Simon and the other doctors and nurses who had congregated at the doorway.

"Has anyone touched anything? Has anything in this room been moved since you found it?" Carlisle smelled the air surreptitiously; he couldn't pick up any scents he didn't recognise, suggesting that no one had broken in and kidnapped Harry. That was one small mercy.

"Nothing has been touched, although _someone_ almost started to clean the place up," Simon's eyes shifted over to one of the nurses standing by the door, Suzanne. Carlisle was surprised; Suzanne was one of the more professional nurses in the hospital and Carlisle got on quite well with her. It seemed unlikely that she would mistakenly try to clean up a crime scene. She offered him an apologetic smile, to which he returned a hesitant nod.

"Chief Swan should be here any minute," Simon continued. "Hopefully he'll be able to shed some light on what happened. I hate to say at this point it definitely looks like a kidnapping, but hopefully when we get some blood testing done we'll find out who was responsible."

Carlisle desperately wished he could tell them what he knew: that the blood was Harry's, not some criminal's. He yearned to say that there was no way that this was a kidnapping and that they shouldn't waste their time, but he knew he had to keep quiet. He couldn't explain how he knew the blood that stained the floors was Harry's, nor could he assure them that no one had been in the room and it was actually Harry himself that had caused all this destruction. Instead he had to pretend to be just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

' _If only I had still been here. I might have seen or heard something.'_

Carlisle frowned, deep in thought. What if there was a way to see what happened?

Pretending to look closer at the rest of the damage, Carlisle made his way slowly over to the corner of the room where the little camera sat blinking on the ceiling.

Three weeks ago, much to the disapproval of the community, the hospital had installed security cameras into all private rooms, which they had assured the public was done as a 'safety measure'. At the time Carlisle hadn't seen the need, but now he was thankful that the hospital board had gone against the public's wishes. They had been installed so recently that most people still forgot they were there. By the sound of things nobody had thought to check them, and for this Carlisle was also thankful.

Turning around, he headed for the door to leave, but Simon stopped him.

"Wait, Carlisle, where are you going? The Chief will be here soon and you should be here. He'll, uh, want to talk to you." Carlisle could tell Simon was avoiding commenting on the obvious; as Harry's doctor, Carlisle would be a prime suspect.

"Don't worry, Simon, I won't be long. I just need to pick something up from my office that I left behind earlier and I didn't get a chance to use the restroom before racing over here," he added with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. Seeing that Simon still looked unsure, he added, "I'll be back as soon as Charlie arrives."

"Doctor Morrison? A word, please."

Giving Carlisle a tight smile, Simon moved to go and speak to one of the other doctors as Carlisle slipped out into the hall and headed for the security room. The room would be unattended at this time; it always was at night, and Carlisle was counting on this so he could have free access to the security footage.

He managed to make it to the door without meeting anyone along the way. Security was in a relatively remote part of the hospital, and most of the staff were somewhere near Harry's room so the corridors were empty. Knowing that he would be alone for a while, he pushed down on the handle to let himself in. But the handle didn't budge.

' _Typical. I suppose if they won't put staff in there, they'll lock it instead.'_

Shaking his head at what he was about to do, Carlisle pulled a small piece of wire out of his pocket and began to pick the lock. It was just one of the things his children had insisted upon teaching him over the decades – 'how to be a common criminal' they had coined it – and he certainly didn't make a habit of doing it. Though he refused to let his family know just how much the skill had come in handy over the years.

Once he heard the tell-tale click of the lock, Carlisle stood up straight and opened the door. As he flicked the switch to his left, the room lit up to reveal over a dozen computer monitors all showing a different part of the hospital. He sat down at the nearest one and began typing. While his children insisted he was a dinosaur when it came to technology, Carlisle knew exactly how to work his way through this old system, and soon enough he had found the footage from Harry's private room over the last few hours.

Rewinding the tape to 10pm, Carlisle indeed saw Suzanne and one of the other nurses enter the room and check on Harry, who was lying motionless on the bed. Suzanne placed a small cup of water on the boy's bedside table before they both left once more.

Carlisle was just about to begin to fast-forward the tape, when Harry sat upright. Carlisle lifted an eyebrow in amusement.

' _So he can act, too. Even I thought he was sleeping.'_

Knowing he didn't have enough time to sit here and watch the tape in real-time, Carlisle slowly began fast-forwarding until Harry suddenly moved again twenty minutes later. The boy threw himself back down onto the bed and his mouth began to move.

' _Why can't this thing have sound?'_

Not even Carlisle could lip-read what Harry was saying, but judging by the far-away expression on his face it wasn't anything cheerful.

All of a sudden Harry was standing up and kicking the furniture. Carlisle watched on in amazement at the sudden change in emotion, and froze in wonder as what he had predicted came true; as Harry threw his arms out, the ceiling exploded. The room was plunged into darkness as glass rained down on him as he collapsed to the floor. Carlisle vaguely noticed the window swing in and smash just as he had imagined.

' _That boy sure has a temper. How did nobody hear that?'_

What he saw next had Carlisle leaning forward until his face was an inch from the screen; Harry had pulled out that same object from his pocket that he had used when he stopped the scaffolding, but before Carlisle could get too excited, he dropped it to the floor and fell back onto the bed. Carlisle sat back in frustration.

' _I thought I was going to finally see something there.'_

He kept the footage rolling at high speed as Harry looked out of his door, but slowed it down when he saw the glowing animal appear.

"What in the –"

Carlisle knew a lynx when he saw one – he had tasted many over the centuries – but he couldn't fathom how a copy of the animal had materialised from a ball of light. The feline sat proudly in the centre of the room, hovering a few feet above the floor and watched Harry with glowing white eyes. As the creature opened its mouth and Harry appeared to be listening closely, Carlisle cursed the lack of sound for a second time.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the lynx dissolved into nothing and the room became dark once again. Carlisle was hardly watching the screen anymore. He could have sworn that lynx had been talking to Harry, and judging by the boy's reaction it could only have been good news. Did this mean there were other people like Harry and this was how they communicated? Perhaps it was from someone back in England wondering where he was.

Carlisle was so engrossed in his discovery that he didn't even react when Harry summoned the clock into his hands and set it on the bed. He returned his primary focus back to the monitor, however, when Harry moved to the window.

' _He's not going to jump, is he?'_

Carlisle couldn't help but notice how calm Harry seemed as he looked out into the night. It was the same position he had found the boy in when he spoke to Harry before going home.

' _The last time I saw him before he disappeared.'_

Suddenly all sense of calm evaporated, as Harry stiffened and spun around so quickly that he ended up sprawled on the floor.

' _Well that explains the blood.'_

Carlisle watched on in fascination as Harry grabbed the clock with his bloodied hands and gaped at it. Sensing that he was about to witness how the boy had managed to leave undetected, he refused to so much as blink in case he missed it. As Carlisle watched on, Harry gave the room one last glance, turned on the spot and vanished into nothing.

' _You have got to be –'_

Carlisle couldn't help it: he laughed. A genuine laugh that echoed around the small security room. He had thought Harry was a mystery before, but now he was able to disappear _into thin air._ Surely, he thought, there's no way he has any more surprises.

As he settled down from his laughter, Carlisle began to see the serious side of what he had just witnessed. Having absolutely no idea what just happened, Harry could be anywhere. Carlisle didn't know how this newest trick of Harry's worked; for all he knew, the boy could be on the other side of the world.

This proved Harry had left by choice, and Carlisle was sure it had something to do with what that lynx had said to him, but he had no way of knowing what that could have been. Carlisle only hoped it had nothing to do with _him_ and what he was.

The ringing of his phone brought him back to attention. Carlisle pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

 _Simon Morrison._

' _Now I'm in trouble.'_

Making the quick decision to delete the footage from Harry's room over the past 24 hours – he couldn't risk the police thinking of checking the security cameras – Carlisle's fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur. He let himself out of the room as the screens turned off one by one and pressed the answer button on his phone.

"Simon, I'm on my way. I got caught discussing the situation with someone from another department, I'm afraid," Carlisle lied easily as he retraced his footsteps towards Harry's room.

"That's fine, Carlisle," Simon was clearly trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "I've sent Chief Swan along to meet you at your office."

' _Oh dear.'_

"Excellent. Thank-you, Simon." There was nothing excellent about it at all. Carlisle was ages away from his office and he knew it would look suspicious if he arrived after the Chief did.

A small mumble from his colleague signalled the end of the conversation, and the call dropped out. Pocketing his phone, Carlisle made his way as quickly as humanly possible back to his office. Given the late hour it was simple enough to avoid meeting anyone along the way and so he was able to give the occasional burst of vampiric speed when he knew there were no security cameras in the area.

When he was around the corner from his office, Carlisle heard footsteps approaching from the other direction. Darting around to his office door, he had just enough time to pull his key out and pretend to lock up when Charlie Swan came around the opposite corner.

"Ah, Doctor Cullen, they said I would find you here," the Chief said in greeting, extending his hand out to the doctor.

"Hello, Charlie. Please, how many times must I ask you to call me Carlisle?" he chuckled as he grasped Charlie's hand firmly. Ignoring Charlie's mutterings about 'wanting to be professional', Carlisle gestured to the door beside him; "Shall we go into my office?"

Unlocking the door, Carlisle moved aside so as Charlie could move past him.

"So, I hear you've got a missing patient, Carlisle," he said as he moved to stand by the filing cabinet.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I assume my colleagues have told you everything they know?" he asked as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Charlie looked up at the ceiling as he began to recite:

"Harry Potter, estimated to be in his late teens, was admitted yesterday for severe trauma to his body. He was unwilling to answer anybody's questions on how he ended up in such a state, and the only observation to indicate where he's from was his English accent." He shifted his gaze to Carlisle. "It was also mentioned that you were his doctor."

"Ah. Yes."

Charlie suddenly became embarrassed; a red glow was spreading down his neck as he spoke his next words.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle. I know it's ridiculous, but –"

Carlisle waved off his apology.

"Nonsense, Charlie. You're doing your job. I will tell you everything I know, although I'm afraid that won't be a lot more than what my colleagues have told you already." After he offered Charlie a seat, Carlisle moved to sit at his desk. Gesturing to Charlie to go on, he insisted, "Ask away officer."

Charlie just stared, dumbfounded.

"Carlisle, surely you don't believe I think you're guilty of the boy's disappearance? I'm just asking you questions," he assured.

Carlisle laughed.

"I know you don't, Charlie. But you should."

"Wait. What? Are you saying –?"

"I'm not saying I have anything to do with it," Carlisle waved him off, "but you should still suspect me. I've spent more time with Harry than anyone else during his stay in the hospital. I could have said anything to him while we were alone: threatened him, scared him. Never assume someone is innocent because you think you know them, Charlie," he reasoned.

Charlie scoffed in disbelief.

"Are you saying you want me to suspect you?"

"Goodness no!" Carlisle laughed. "I believe I had nothing to do with it. I'm merely telling you that in this sort of situation I should be a suspect," he finished, and fixed Charlie with a bright smile.

Still gaping slightly, Charlie just shook his head slowly until he came back to his senses.

"Right. What can you tell me then?"

"On my way in to work," Carlisle checked his watch, "yesterday morning, I found Harry by the side of the road in a very bad state. I brought him with me straight to the hospital where I have been monitoring his condition ever since."

Charlie made a couple of small notes on a pad.

"Hit and run?" He queried.

"It is difficult to say," Carlisle mused. "Some of his injuries would fit such a history, but others would not. Harry was reluctant to give any more information."

"Seems suspicious," Charlie muttered. "One of the other doctors mentioned something about an incident relating to what happened down the street at that building site."

"Ah, yes." Carlisle had been hoping the construction site wouldn't come up. "I don't really know what came over the boy, but Harry thought he should try to help and so ran outside. As the scaffolding came down a piece of metal bounced off and struck him in the head, causing him to end up back in my care and requiring stitches."

" _Crazy kid, trying to get himself killed,"_ Charlie murmured to himself as he jotted down more notes. "Anything else you can tell me, doc?"

"I'm afraid that's about it. Harry was not very forward with his information. He preferred to change topic whenever someone asked a question about himself." That was a fact that still troubled Carlisle. Perhaps if Harry had spoken to him, Carlisle could have helped.

"Right then," Charlie sighed as he stood up from his chair. "I don't see that there's a whole lot we can do. I'll get a couple of squad cars out looking tonight, see if anything comes up. In the meantime you guys know what to do; keep your eyes open, that sort of thing," he instructed, making his way back towards the door.

' _Don't bother with squad cars. If Harry doesn't want to be found then he won't be,'_ Carlisle thought. Instead what he said was:

"Of course, Charlie. Thank-you for coming at such a late hour."

Charlie waved off his thanks, muttering something about 'just doing his job'.

"I'm just going to have a word with the bloke in charge of the department and go and have a look at the security footage, see if those damn cameras have been any use."

The false smile came easily to Carlisle's face.

"Ah yes, good thinking. I don't believe they've been checked yet, what with them being so recently installed." He knew they would find no footage of Harry's room from the past day. Carlisle was hoping that they would simply pass it off as a malfunction of the system and not foul-play, though he was rarely that lucky.

Carlisle stood up from his desk and walked over to open the door for Charlie, who moved out into the corridor. Turning around back to his office, Carlisle's eyes rested upon Harry's file which had been left open on his desk. Wandering over to it, he closed the cover and ran his hand over the boy's name which had been carefully printed at the top. He didn't know where Harry was, but deep down he was confident the boy would return.

"Carlisle, you coming?"

"Coming, Charlie."

Placing the folder neatly back into the filing cabinet, Carlisle flicked the light switch and locked the door behind him. As Charlie began to lead the way back to the boy's room, Carlisle took the brief moment alone to whisper to himself:

"Please come back, Harry."


	11. Chapter 10

_"Woah!"_

Eyes still clamped firmly shut, Harry threw his hands out from his body in the hopes of grabbing on to something to steady himself. His hands curled around something firm but it didn't prevent him from falling to the ground in agony. Clamping his fist in his mouth, Harry managed not to make a sound and lay on the ground to wait for the pain to stop, dropping his soiled jumper in the process. Slowly it began to subside and he was able to breathe normally again. He was only vaguely aware that the tingling feeling that had been proceeding his recent use of magic was absent.

"Okay," he murmured to himself, "I'm not in a hurry to try that again."

Fighting to remain conscious, Harry sat like that on the floor until his head stopped spinning. When he was confident he wasn't going to be sick, he pulled himself shakily to his feet and had his first proper look at where he had landed.

He was indeed in the Minister's office; his hands were resting on the back of a plush armchair adorned with red leather which was seated in front of a broad, mahogany desk. A large window sat behind the Minister's chair – one of the many fake windows inside the Ministry. The view was of a bright, sunny morning looking over London, and while Harry knew it was merely an image, he still smiled at the sight; he was home.

Suddenly a thought struck him that almost made him fall over again.

 _'What time is it?!'_

Harry tore his gaze away from the fake London and scanned the room for a clock. He found one sitting on the wall above the door behind him.

 _6:53am_

Sinking to the floor again, this time with relief, Harry let out a small laugh at his luck; a time difference of 8 hours exactly. He looked at his hands and was pleased to see that the bleeding had almost stopped. Leaning his head back against the chair, he allowed his eyes to move around the room again, slower this time. Noticing one of the walls covered in newspaper articles, he decided to investigate and pulled himself back to his feet.

Harry took a couple of shaky steps over to the wall which was covered from floor to ceiling in articles from the _Daily Prophet._ Every article that mentioned Death Eaters, Voldemort or Harry was taking up the space in the middle of the wall. Headlines such as 'HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS', and 'HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?' were fairly worn out with withered corners; Harry could picture the Minister, whether it be Fudge, Scrimgeour or now Kingsley, running their hands down the columns of black ink searching for clues.

In the middle of all of these was a brand new article that had clearly been pinned up only recently, evident by the crispness of the page and the subject to which it referred. 'THE DARK LORD DEFEATED' stood out boldly taking up more than half the front page. Harry leaned in closer, hoping to find news of what happened after his disappearance in the smaller print; however, when he got a closer look, all there was to read was a note directing readers to page two for the full article. Annoyed, Harry leaned back from the wall and was about to go and look around the rest of the office when his eyes fell on another headline, smaller than the first but on the same front page.

'THE BOY WHO FLED: WHERE IS POTTER?'

 _'Despite the resolution of a disaster plaguing us for years, a new mystery has surfaced after this morning's events at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: where is Harry Potter? Witnesses lay claim that once defeating You-Know-Who, Potter disapparated from the scene just as numerous Death Eaters sought vengeance and unleashed curses upon the waiting crowd. Potter's disappearance has raised eyebrows over his true loyalties, as –'_

A sudden noise behind him interrupted Harry from the article, as he turned around to watch the office door swing inwards. Acting on instinct, Harry whipped the Elder Wand out of his pocket and held it aloft, ready to jinx anyone who had come snooping. When he heard a voice talking to themselves, Harry lowered his wand and allowed a smile to appear on his face.

"Six fifty-nine," rumbled the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt from behind the door. "Don't see what more we can –" Kingsley had just appeared from around the door and spotted Harry, who was still standing next to the wall of newspapers. A frown appeared on his forehead for a fraction of a second before he finally realised who was standing in his office and a wide smile broke out on his face. Kingsley opened his mouth as though to speak, but then seemed to remember that his office door was still wide open; he shut it hastily and faced Harry once more.

"Harry!" he boomed, taking three long strides to grasp Harry's hand in a firm handshake. "You're damn good at cutting things fine, you know that?" he joked, the smile still plastered on his face.

Harry was pleased to see that Kingsley didn't appear to be harbouring any injuries from the previous day; other than a few cuts and bruises, he seemed perfectly unscathed, and his tall, broad frame still commanded respect in a reassuring sort of way. Harry couldn't help but feel better with him in the room.

"It's great to see you too, Kingsley," he said honestly. "What happ–" he began, but Kingsley interrupted.

"You look awful, Harry. Pale as anything. Sit." He gestured to the plush armchair that Harry had steadied himself with earlier, and moved around to the other side of the desk to take a seat in his own chair. Harry quickly sat in the chair and tried to ask his question again.

"Kingsley, I need to know –" but he broke off as Kingsley raised a silencing hand.

"I understand you want to know what happened, and I am about to tell you, but I need to hear what happened to you first. Where did you go?" Kingsley sat back in his chair and peered at Harry, not dissimilar to how Dumbledore used to gaze from his chair in the Headmaster's office.

Harry didn't speak; how could Kingsley expect him to tell his story first? Was it not more important for Harry to know what had happened after he disappeared? As though he heard Harry's thoughts, Kingsley sighed.

"Harry, I know you don't want to wait, but it is vital you tell me your sequence of events first. I swear to you that I will tell you everything once you have finished." He said this very slowly, insisting that Harry understand what he was saying.

Seeing no other option, Harry launched into his tale telling Kingsley everything that had happened from when he disapparated up to his arrival in the Ministry this morning. He was careful, though, not to mention that Doctor Cullen was a vampire; Harry didn't feel as though that was his information to share.

"– and so then I came straight here," he finished, his mouth dry from talking so long.

Kingsley, who had been leaning forward to listen, sat back in his chair and let out a long breath before saying, "Impossible. Nobody can apparate those sorts of distances. Even Dumbledore could only manage a few hundred miles." Harry had wondered the exact same thing when Doctor Cullen had explained where he was, but right now he wasn't overly interested in his unexplainable transatlantic excursion. Instead he was dying for Kingsley to fulfil his side of the bargain and explain what had happened at Hogwarts. Harry was just about to interrupt the newly appointed Minister when he started speaking.

"Sorry, I suppose that's not important to you right now. We can discuss that later." Suddenly Kingsley's whole demeanour changed; gone was the bright spark in his eye that Harry recognised. This Kingsley looked old and weary – a man fresh off the battlefield. "Harry," he began. "What I am about to tell you is not good news. We haven't got a lot of time before I need to get you out of here again, so I need you to not interrupt."

"Wait, what –?" Harry started, but at the look in Kingsley's eyes he shut his mouth again and nodded his understanding.

"Harry once you left, things got out of the Ministry's control. Those Death Eaters who threw curses your way went on a rampage. Their only interest was getting out of there, and with no amount of self-preservation. The way everyone was gathered in the centre of the hall made it almost impossible for any of the Order to get to them and so, Harry," Kingsley took a shaking breath and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, Harry could see the struggle he was facing to speak. "In the fight that followed, more lives were lost. I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry's insides went cold. This couldn't be happening. No, it was impossible. Voldemort was _dead._ All of this was supposed to stop. There must be some mistake. Harry stared into Kingsley's eyes, desperate to see anything that could suggest he was lying – that this was some sick joke and that everyone was actually hidden somewhere nearby to welcome him home. Instead he saw his own gut-wrenching grief reflected back at him and he knew it was the truth.

"Who?" he heard himself ask.

Kingsley picked up one of the pages from his desk and held it between his hands, hesitating. "This, Harry, is the official list of deaths that is to be published in the next edition of the _Prophet_ ," he explained cautiously, but didn't hand it over. Instead he let out another sigh and spoke, "I want you to read it, except – I think – some of it you need to hear rather than read."

Harry was only vaguely paying attention. How could this meeting be going so wrong? He was supposed to have come back a hero, prepared to start a _normal_ life, and yet here he was being told of more people who had died for him – _because_ of him. He didn't want to hear it. He screwed his eyes shut as though he could get away from the awful conversation.

"Harry." He ignored Kingsley's voice. _'No,'_ he thought. _'I'm not ready, I'm not ready. Please don't –'_ But Kingsley couldn't hear Harry's silent plea. "Harry, I need to know you're listening to me."

Going against his own wishes, Harry opened his eyes and looked at Kingsley, whose own eyes were clouded by grief and pity.

"I am so sorry. Ronald was one of the deceased."

 _Ron._

Harry could feel himself shaking his head but he couldn't remember telling himself to start. All he was aware of was the increasing tightness in his throat that threatened to cut off his air at any moment.

 _His best friend._

The dull thudding in his chest became an audible thumping in his skull and he felt as though the room was closing down on top of him. He dug his fingernails painfully into his palms, reopening the wounds that had just begun to close.

 _His first friend._

No longer seeing the room in front of him, the sight of Ron's terrified face was burned into Harry's mind – the last eye contact he had made. His best mate since that first trip on the Hogwarts Express, who made him laugh for seven years, who stuck with him to the very end. Ron just _couldn't_ be gone.

"Harry, talk to me," Kingsley whispered, but Harry could barely hear him. He was thinking of all the things he hadn't said. All the things he never would be able to say. He thought about all the things they wouldn't be able to share: graduation, birthdays, weddings. All of it now part of an impossible future. Harry frowned as his eyes began to sting. Ron had only just worked things out with –

"Hermione." It came out as a whisper; the constricted feeling in his throat made his voice quaver. Harry tried to clear it by coughing, but all he managed to do was let out a muffled sob. "Hermione," he said again, louder.

Hearing no immediate response from Kingsley, Harry looked up in fear. Panic clutched his throbbing heart as he searched Kingsley's face for an answer. _'Please, not both of them.'_

Kingsley hesitated before replying, "Hermione survived."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't even realised he had been holding. He closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the stinging that had started again. He had to find her; only together would they be able to get through Ron's – he couldn't even think the word.

Kingsley had continued speaking. "She's currently in St Mungo's. But Harry –" he cut off as Harry stood up from his chair.

"I have to go and see her," he said with more determination than he felt.

"Harry, you can't. Just listen –"

"SAYS WHO?!" Harry spat. "I need to see her and nothing you can say will stop me!" He had never felt angrier. His face heated and blood pounded in his eardrums as he glared down at Kingsley with nothing less than pure rage.

"Harry – please – be quiet!" Kingsley urged as he stood up and made to move around his desk. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Kingsley's chest. The Minister stopped dead.

"I'll be quiet once I've seen Hermione, HAVE YOU GOT THAT?!" He was screaming now, not caring who could be listening outside. Rage had clouded his senses and so it was only when his wand went flying out of his outstretched hand that Harry noticed Kingsley had pulled out his own wand and disarmed him.

"Harry, stop this! I know you're upset, but you need to hear everything before you make any rash decisions," Kingsley pleaded. He pocketed his wand and moved to stand in front of Harry, who had sunk back down into his chair. Harry felt as though all the fight inside him had been taken with his wand and he could now feel the despair creeping back into his mind.

"Harry," Kingsley began in a sombre voice. "I know you want to see Hermione, but it's just far too risky. Hermione is in St Mungo's because she had her memory wiped. She doesn't remember who she is."

Now Kingsley was being insulting, Harry thought. How dare he suggest Hermione could lose her memory? _'It's impossible,'_ his mind kept repeating. _'That wouldn't happen.'_ He voiced his doubt.

"No. Kingsley, Hermione was the cleverest witch of her age. That's impossible that she could forget," he insisted, his heart lightening at his assuredness. But when he looked closer at Kingsley and saw the heartbreak on his face, doubt began to creep back.

"Why're you looking at me like that? Kingsley, you're wrong. Stop it. You've got it all wrong. Please, stop it…" Harry's voice was barely a whisper as he pleaded with the Minister. Why was he not admitting that he was wrong?

"Oh, Harry, how I wish I could do that. You have gone through far more tragedy than is fair, especially for someone so young. The world lost many great witches and wizards yesterday. Ronald and Hermione were two of the greatest." Harry could only stare as a single tear made its lonely way down the face of the Minister for Magic.

What would he be doing now if those Death Eaters hadn't escaped? _'I would be mourning,'_ he thought. _'But I would have Ron and Hermione by my side.'_ Harry brought his fist to his mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.

Twenty-four hours ago he had lost his two best friends and he hadn't even known. He had been half way around the world lying incapacitated in a hospital bed with a vampire as his doctor. He had left the wizarding world in mourning as he dashed about saving Muggles from plummeting to their deaths. For twenty-four hours he had prayed for a way home. Now he realised there had never been a warm reunion waiting for him.

Harry let his eyes wander around the room, too scared to focus in one spot lest tears begin to flow. Without meaning to, they found their way to the piece of paper that was still lying on Kingsley's desk – the official list of the deceased. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Harry reached forward and picked it up. His heart hammered in his ears as he began to read.

 _Remus Lupin_

 _Nymphadora Tonks_

 _Fred Weasley_

The first several names he had known would be there, but still each one came as a blow to his heart.

 _Ronald Weasley_

Seeing his friend's name written in ink cemented the truth – Ron was gone and he wasn't coming back.

A small splash landed on the page.

Harry hadn't known about the next names on the list; these were the people who died after he left.

 _Seamus Finnigan_

 _Lee Jordan_

 _Luna Lovegood_

 _Sybill Trelawney_

On the list went, each name becoming harder to read as tears blurred Harry's vision. With each name came a memory: Seamus' ability to set almost anything alight, Lee's highly biased Quidditch commentary, Luna and the Quibbler supporting Harry when the _Prophet_ turned against him. Even Trelawney, whom Harry had always labelled a fraud, had stepped up in the final battle and taken her part.

Harry was struggling to hold on to his composure as the page began to swim before him. As he reached the end of the list, he could only barely read the final name, and he was so startled at what it said he had to wipe his eyes with his sleeve to make sure he was mistaken. But there was no mistaking it. Eyes now clear, the final name stood out from the others as an error – an impossibility.

 _Harry Potter._

Had the page simply not been edited yet? Harry recalled the words of the patronus that had visited him in the hospital – _'I need you to apparate directly into my office before 7am. If you don't, we may have to assume the worst.'_ If he hadn't made it before seven o'clock, they would have assumed him dead. But he _had_ made it in time. Why was his name still on the list?

"Kingsley, I'm not dead," he croaked, his voice weak from the tightness of his throat. He looked up at Kingsley expectantly, waiting for him to take the sheet and cross off the last name saying 'Yes of course, Harry, that was only there in case of the worst.' But he didn't take the sheet. Instead he returned to the chair behind his desk, taking his time to sit down and get comfortable before he spoke.

"I know. But you need to be."

Harry's stomach plummeted.

"But – I don't – what –"

"Harry, listen to me. I need you to understand and we haven't got much time." And just like that, Kingsley's demeanour changed once more; the powerful leader was back. "When you left it was chaos – Death Eaters and our allies fighting for dominance. Once they were finally recaptured and the most recent casualties counted for, people started to whisper about your disappearance. At first most people saw it for what it was: those Death Eaters avenging the death of their leader and you taking the only available exit. Others saw different. They saw it as abandonment – a diversion to allow the remaining Death Eaters to regain control."

"What?! How could they – even after I –"

"Especially since you had just defeated Voldemort. They figured it was a perfect ploy to instate yourself as leader," Kingsley explained, a hint of ice in his tone. "In the space of a few hours, you had returned to being public enemy number one."

"That's insane," Harry croaked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; how was it possible that the same people who fought by his side could turn on him so quickly? Thinking back to the _Daily Prophet_ article on the wall, Harry reckoned he could now figure out what the rest of it would say.

Harry's mind suddenly jumped back to the recaptured Death Eaters, and he asked, "What's going to happen to those that were captured?"

Eyeing Harry warily, Kingsley responded, "They've all been sentenced to receive the Dementor's kiss."

"What?!" Harry cried. "That's not enough! They deserve nothing less than to die!" He was standing up again, arms in the air. The injustice of it all was too much for Harry. These people had taken his two best friends from him; they deserved nothing less.

"Harry, please, be quiet!" Kingsley urged. "This is the decision that has been made by the Ministry," he declared in a tone of finality. Spotting the anger and hurt in Harry's eyes, Kingsley softened his expression and said, "Harry, I know that this is dreadful for you, but if anyone finds out that you're in here you'll be arrested."

"Because everyone thinks I'm a Death Eater," Harry spat.

"The rumours keep changing, but it's the latest one that we feel necessary to convince people is true."

"You mean that I'm dead," Harry clarified. After all the times he could have been killed he never suspected that he would have to fake his own death.

Kingsley eyed him imploringly. "I'm sorry, Harry, but it's the only way for you to have a normal life. If people know you're still alive you will be constantly targeted, never able to settle down in one place."

There was a very pregnant pause.

To be honest, that didn't sound all that different to how Harry had been living the past several months. But Harry didn't know if he would be able to do that for the rest of his life: constantly disapparating and apparating, always looking over his shoulder waiting for someone to creep up on him.

"So where do I go?"

At this question, Kingsley leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "I suppose that is up to you. Though you should know…" he paused, as though unsure how to continue. "Arthur and Molly Weasley have offered to take you in."

Harry's heart seemed to clench in his chest; he had completely forgotten to think about how Mr and Mrs Weasley must be coping, having lost two of their sons. The Burrow could never be the same without Fred and Ron, and Harry wasn't sure how he could ever fill their places.

"Kingsley, I –" he began.

"Molly tells me that no matter what you will always be the son she never had. She wants you to be safe and happy, Harry," he offered kindly.

Harry was torn. His heart desperately wanted to say yes, yes of course he wanted to live with the Weasleys. They would be able to support each other, get through this horror together. His brain, though, was seeing the reality of the situation; if he stayed with the Weasleys, they wouldn't be able to stay at The Burrow, surely. He would be tracked back to them and that would put all of them in danger, something that Harry had sworn to never do again. He knew that they wouldn't care, that they would do anything if it meant that he, Harry, were safe. But the idea of the Weasleys leaving The Burrow and putting themselves in danger was too much for Harry to bear, and so there was only one decision he could make.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry said his next words.

"I can't." He looked up at Kingsley and saw that the Minister wasn't at all surprised by his response. He gave Harry a sad smile.

"I told Molly you might say that." Hearing this made Harry's heart hurt even more. He suddenly felt the need to explain himself.

"I just can't put any more people in danger, Kingsley. They need to still be able to live their own lives and they can't do that with me under their roof," he explained. Voicing his reasons was much more painful than thinking them, but he kept talking. "I just think I need to get away from the wizarding world for a while."

As soon as he said it, Harry realised it was true. He just couldn't face the idea of staying in this world without Ron and Hermione by his side. He had discovered magic with them by his side and they had all grown up in this world together. Even though the wizarding world was the only place he had ever felt at home, continuing on without his two best friends seemed an impossibility.

"I understand," Kingsley said in his deep, comforting voice as he sat back in his chair with a sigh. "Perhaps then you might like to return to America? Living among Muggles would allow you to remain hidden while keeping the name Harry Potter."

 _'So long as there's no vampires,'_ Harry thought.

"Ok," he said. "But first I have to see Hermione."

"Harry –" Kingsley began, but Harry held up his hand.

"There is nothing you can say to me that will change my mind," he asserted. He had made his decision. He didn't know how he was going to get in and out without being seen, but he had to try. His voice softened as he added, "I have to say goodbye."

Kingsley nodded, though reluctantly. "Then, I suppose, you may be in need of these." He opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out two objects. The first a small, beaded handbag, and the second a flowing, silvery cloak.

"Hermione's handbag? And my invisibility cloak? Where did you find these?" Harry asked, gobsmacked.

"They were both found at Hogwarts during the clean-up. Neville Longbottom gave them to me, thought I was most likely to get into contact with you," Kingsley explained.

"Where is Neville?" Harry had nearly forgotten about Neville, which considering the vital part he played in the final battle was quite unforgiving.

"No one is entirely sure. He returned home with his grandmother, but told her that he wanted to travel. We think he just needed time," Kingsley added softly. "Harry, using your cloak is the only way you'll be able to get in to St Mungo's without being detected. It is imperative that no one sees you, is that understood?"

Harry nodded, a new kind of determination filling him. He needed to do this.

From his drawer Kingsley pulled an old, empty ink bottle and sat it upon his desk.

 _"Portus."_

The ink bottle began to rattle and glowed with a bright blue light for a few seconds before it faded and stilled once more.

"Harry, I don't know how you managed to apparate across the Atlantic twice in one day, but you look far too weak to manage it again. This portkey will take you back to the town of Forks at midnight tonight, meaning you have up until then to see Hermione. From there it is up to you where you wish to settle down." Kingsley handed the old bottle to Harry who pocketed it.

Both men stood up and looked at each other. Kingsley smiled, the gold hoop in his ear catching the light coming in the window.

"It has been an absolute pleasure to know you, Harry. I wish you all the best with your life, and want to thank you for helping to further each of ours. Minerva McGonagall extends her thanks and best wishes," Kingsley told him, the smile on his face increasing in size. "And so does Albus."

Harry stared. "What –?"

"I spoke with his portrait before leaving Hogwarts," Kingsley explained. "He is very proud of you, Harry. We all are."

Harry nodded his understanding and closed his eyes against the stinging that had just started again. He took a deep, shuddering breath before opening them again, and extended his hand out to Kingsley. The Minister for Magic reached forward to grasp it.

"Thank you, Kingsley. For everything."

"Good luck, Harry Potter."

Taking one last sweeping look of the office as he threw the invisibility cloak over himself, Harry took a deep breath and turned on the spot, vanishing into thin air.


	12. Chapter 11

Four hours.

Four hours and twenty-seven minutes to be precise.

That was how long it had been since Carlisle left in a hurry. With the clocks now slowly ticking past four a.m., the Cullens would normally be found spending time together either in the living room or out hunting. Instead, this morning found three of them gone, three more in the living room sitting in silence, and the seventh in his room wallowing in guilt and confusion.

The seventh was, of course, Edward. Having trapped himself inside his bedroom moments after Carlisle had left for the hospital, Edward sat himself in the very middle of his room, closed his eyes, and had not moved since. No one had been allowed inside; Esme and Alice had both tried to speak with him but soon gave up when he ignored their words of comfort. This was something he had to work out on his own.

Edward wanted to believe Carlisle more than anything, but there was no suppressing the nagging doubt about Harry. _What_ was he? _Why_ was he here? And _how_ did he know about vampires? These questions reverberated non-stop around Edward's head, never answering themselves, only bringing up more questions. Would he tell? Was he sent here to find them? Was he … _dangerous_?

' _Yes,'_ Edward mused. He had no doubt that being on Harry's bad side was a very dangerous place to stand. He could see why Carlisle thought it important to get into the boy's good books.

' _But –'_ Edward opened his eyes and frowned. Carlisle wasn't friendly to Harry because he knew the boy could turn against him. He did it because that's what he does: sees the good in people. Even in the lowest of lowlifes he could see the potential for them to be something great had they only chosen the right path. Was it really so hard to believe that Carlisle could see the good in Harry because the boy was just a good person?

Edward let out a lengthy sigh. That was just one of the many traits Edward did not share with his father. His trust was something that people had to earn. He would always assume the worst of someone and wait to be proven otherwise. That was just how he went through life. Partly, he supposed, that was due to being a mind-reader. It was a much quicker process to find out if someone was worth trusting when you had access to their thoughts. Which was precisely why Edward found it so difficult to trust Harry.

Never having encountered anyone else in the past whose mind he could not read, Edward was stumped as to what to do. He had always relied on his ability to learn about people. He could find out almost everything worth knowing about a person after listening to their thoughts for a few hours, and now faced with someone where that was not possible he didn't have the faintest idea what to do.

 _'Be like Carlisle,'_ his thoughts answered him. Be like Carlisle. Was it that simple? Could he really just change the way he had interacted with people for the last almost 90 years and learn about Harry… like a person?

 _'You owe him.'_ Owe who? He supposed he owed Harry the chance to prove himself and show that he could be trusted. It was the sort of thing Carlisle would do: give someone a chance.

Carlisle.

He definitely owed his father. He owed him the return of his unwavering trust. Carlisle was right; he had never made a decision that wasn't in the best interest of those he loved, and Edward knew that he wouldn't start now. He knew it would be difficult, dropping his guard, but he would try, and that was all he owed Harry and Carlisle: to try.

Filled with a new purpose, Edward stood up and went to join the rest of his family in the wait.

* * *

It was only another fifteen minutes before Edward heard the engine of the Mercedes make the turn off the highway into the drive up to their home. Soon enough Carlisle's thoughts came into range and they immediately had Edward frowning.

' _Myokardinfarkt: durch plötzliche Mangelversorgung bedingter Untergang des Herzmuskelgewebes._ _'_

Carlisle was translating his medical dictionary into German. He was hiding something.

Soon enough the engine quieted, a car door opened and closed, and Carlisle was at the front door letting himself inside. The others went out to meet him, but Esme was the fastest, getting their first and giving her husband a welcoming kiss. Edward could see the stress in Carlisle's body: grasping Esme's arms slightly tighter than usual, deepening the kiss for a second longer than average. He pulled away and smiled at his wife and family, but the joy never reached his dark eyes.

"I should hunt. I only have a few hours before I need to be back," Carlisle muttered and turned back around to head out the door. He was going to leave without saying anything.

"Wait!" Edward spluttered. "Carlisle, what –"

"I'll speak with you all when I return." And without even looking at Edward, he opened the door and vanished from sight. Edward was just about to run out and follow him when a small but firm hand grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

"Don't, Edward," Alice whispered. "He wants to be alone." Jasper nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

"His emotions didn't make much sense. Disappointment, loss, amazement. He just needs time to gather his thoughts together."

"How long?"

"One hour." Alice reached up to give her brother a kiss on the cheek and left the room with Jasper by her side.

Esme hadn't taken her gaze away from the front door which still stood open letting in a cool breeze.

' _What was he thinking, Edward.'_

Edward shook his head. "He was blocking his thoughts. I don't know what happened."

Sighing in worry, Esme closed the front door and made her way back into the living room while Edward stayed where he was in the entryway. One hour. Then Carlisle promised he would answer their questions.

Having no other option but to wait, Edward made his way back to his bedroom for what was sure to be a very slow hour.

* * *

 _2 hours later_

"Alice," Edward growled. "You said –"

"I know what I said, Edward," she snapped. "He keeps changing his mind as to when he's coming back. He can't decide if he's ready to talk yet."

Almost two hours had passed since Carlisle had come home and left again, and still there was no sign of him returning. Everyone had reconvened in the living room and Edward was getting agitated.

"I'm going to find him," he announced, and without waiting for anyone's response, he ran. He only caught the beginning of Alice's parting thought.

 _'Edward, be_ – _'_ He didn't go back. He just ran.

It was easy enough to pick up Carlisle's scent and so he followed it. Edward ran for what felt like ten minutes before he slowed down and could just make out Carlisle's thoughts.

 _'_ – _wish I could understand.'_

Edward stopped beside a large tree and silently sprang up to sit in its branches. Settling himself down, he listened to everything his father had seen and heard that night.

Harry was gone. Ran away to God knows where, with the knowledge of Carlisle's identity. Edward shut his eyes in frustration. How could he _not_ assume that Harry had run to tell of the vampires in Forks, to send others to come and dispose of them? A piece of branch snapped off in his hands. He was angry at Harry. Angry at his father for –

No.

He wouldn't start that again. He promised himself he would try to be better and to trust Carlisle. He let out a sigh and leapt down out of the tree. Carlisle's thoughts had mostly calmed down, indicating he would probably return home soon. Edward turned to leave.

 _'I know that you're there, Edward.'_ He froze, one foot in mid-stride. How long had Carlisle been aware of his presence?

 _'Edward, I'd like to speak with you. Please?'_

Turning himself back around to face the direction he knew his father to be in, Edward ran until he came across a small clearing. In the middle stood Carlisle, his eyes back to their golden shine and looking much more relaxed than earlier.

Edward didn't bother pretending.

"Will Harry come back?"

"I hope so," Carlisle replied, and Edward could see that he meant it. His father had unintentionally formed a bond with the boy, and Edward knew that he wouldn't be truly happy until he knew Harry was safe.

"Carlisle, I want to apologise," he began. Hearing no prompting, Edward continued. "It was wrong of me to not trust your judgement. I've thought about this and I blame my gift for my attitude." Edward could hear the first signs of confusion in Carlisle's mind but his father made no effort to interrupt. He would let Edward do this at his pace. "For my whole existence I've relied on reading people's minds to gain a better insight to their character. I haven't had to find things out the slow way for a long time, and now that I know someone whose mind is closed off to me, that's what I need to be doing. But I didn't give him a chance. Instead I treated him, and you, with hostility and that was wrong. I hope that Harry returns too, because I want to do things properly this time. I need to try."

Edward looked at his father and was relieved to see he was beaming. Suddenly the guilt he had been feeling all night dissipated and he felt that he would truly be able to fulfil his promise.

"Thank-you, Edward. That means a lot," Carlisle said in a slightly strained voice. "I know that it will be challenging for you, but I have faith in you. I always do." He smiled at his son, and Edward couldn't help but return the expression.

"So what happens now?"

Carlisle sighed. "The police will continue their investigation but they won't find anything. They're now convinced it was a planned kidnapping after they discovered the security footage was missing." Edward smiled. Who would have thought Carlisle had it in him? "Harry will only be found when he wants to be. Or rather, _if_ he wants to be," Carlisle corrected.

"I'm sure he'll come back," Edward said, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure what made him say that. Was it just hope? Or something more?

"So am I." Edward looked into his father's eyes and knew Carlisle believed his words. In Carlisle's mind started replaying the conversation the two of them had had at the hospital and Carlisle's home office. Edward winced and Carlisle frowned.

"Do we have to talk about that now?" He pleaded with his father.

"Now is as good a time as any, Edward. Your reaction in my office yesterday at the hospital was extreme to say the least. What caused that?" The look he gave his son was scrutinising, and Edward suddenly felt like a criminal under questioning.

"I told you, Carlisle, it was just the combination of my thirst and the stress of the situation. It was nothing," he knew Carlisle would hear the lack of conviction in his voice, but thankfully he didn't point it out. Instead he fixed his son with another concerned look and sighed.

"Alright, I'll let it be for now," he said unhappily. "You had better go hunting. See if you can't finally get some colour back into your eyes." Carlisle smiled and gave Edward a comforting pat on the shoulder and went to move past him. "I'm going to head back to the house. I've been gone long enough." He began to head back into the trees.

"Carlisle," Edward called. His father turned around. "I won't let you down." And he meant it.

Carlisle only smiled. "You could never let me down." He turned and disappeared into the trees.

Edward knew Carlisle was right; nothing he ever did could stop Carlisle from loving him. He hoped that Harry would return soon, and when he did Edward was going to be better. Closing his eyes, Edward gave himself over to the hunt and sprang off into the trees.


	13. Chapter 12

Not even bothering to check where he had appeared, Harry stumbled over to a dusty, stone wall and slid down until he crumpled in the muck and grime of the cement. The air was cool and a shiver ran down his spine despite the cloak he still had around him. He sat there taking deep breaths, willing himself not to break, to hold it together just for today. He needed his wits about him. He had to see Hermione.

Harry could feel the chill seeping in through the layers of his clothing, adding to the coldness inside him that had begun in Kingsley's office. The combination of this intensified as he felt it swell up inside him, robbing him of the air in his lungs as he began to shiver uncontrollably. Eventually it was no longer the cold making him tremble, but the raw emotion that was building inside him.

He tried but failed to suppress a gasp for breath. Sucking in more of the cold morning air he began to choke. Desperate to hold on to his sanity, Harry grasped his hair in his fists and pulled, hoping the pain would sharpen his mind.

' _Just hold it,'_ he chided himself. _'Fight now. Mourn later.'_

Slowly his breathing controlled. The cold weight upon his heart did not lighten, but it no longer suffocated him and he took in slow deep breaths. His senses rebooted, becoming aware again of the cold of the wall and the ground. It had rained recently, he could smell it in the air.

Harry felt it was far too soon when his body finally settled completely. Without thinking he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes, but they were dry. So was the rest of his face. He hadn't even cried. In fact he felt completely calm, as though nothing had even happened. He knew that shouldn't be possible; his world had literally been taken from him and he was far too calm. He had heard about the effects of grief – heck, he had gone through them before. He knew this shouldn't happen, but he supposed that his body was allowing him to focus now to get the job done; that was how his life had always gone.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall. His latest trip had taken a lot out of him, but he was pleased to notice an absence of both the pain and tingling that had accompanied his magic recently. He wished he had thought to question Kingsley about the strange sensation, but perhaps the problem had solved itself. Feeling that finally something was going right and his magic was returning to normal, Harry turned to look out on to the street.

Still hidden beneath the invisibility cloak, Harry had appeared in a small alleyway across the street from the old, run down shop front of Purge & Dowse Ltd. The tired, red-bricked department store sat in filth and squalor, insignificant on the otherwise normal London street. Daily commuters would walk past, occasionally offering a passing glance at the shop that never opened, all too used to its constant state of disrepair. Beyond the façade of such an unimpressive building was housed St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

It was still far too early for him to enter the hospital. When he left Kingsley's office it had been just after 8 o'clock, sixteen hours before the portkey in his pocket would return him to America. He needed to approach this properly if he was to make it in and out undetected. Harry figured it would still be busy so shortly after the events at Hogwarts, and he was planning on using that to his advantage. Hopefully Healers and patients would be far too busy to notice any door that were to open seemingly on its own.

Harry decided he would enter later at night, so that if anything did go wrong it wouldn't be long before the portkey would take him away. He didn't feel up to apparating again just now and he didn't want to count on it as an escape.

What should he do until then? He thought about going for a walk but he didn't think his body could handle that very well. If he were to collapse somewhere nowhere near St Mungo's he'd never see Hermione. Harry figured his best bet was to just wait it out in this alley and try to clear his mind. Perhaps he could get some of his lost sleep back.

Bunching the cloak slightly behind his back for comfort, Harry set himself down for a long wait.

* * *

 _14 hours later_

Harry was miserable. He had put his soiled jumper back on and still he was cold. He hadn't eaten anything since a pitiful meal in the Forks hospital and now he was starving. He hadn't even been able to sleep and now he hadn't slept since… he couldn't even remember the last time he had slept without having been knocked unconscious first. He was exhausted.

Harry slowly stretched out his cold, stiff muscles and pushed himself up to a standing position. The world lurched and he had to hold on to the slimy wall to stop from falling down again. He righted himself, heart beat pounding in his skull and he was able to appreciate for the first time just how weak he was. Apparating was definitely off the agenda for tonight.

The sun had set a while ago and the streetlamps had turned on, casting the world in a cold light. The street was now empty of people, everyone having gone home to dinner. Harry tried not to think about the hot dinners the people of London were surely enjoying.

Though he wasn't entirely sure of the time, Harry felt he had left it as late as he could. It could only be a couple of hours until the portkey would leave, giving him enough time to take it as slowly as he needed without rushing. Getting the last couple of cricks out of his back, Harry took a few shaky steps and made his way across the street to wait outside the hospital.

While the presence of Muggles in the street had steadily declined as the evening wore on, there was no decrease in the number of people going through the big glass window of Purge & Dowse Ltd. Throughout the day Harry had seen several people go in and out of the window that lead inside to the hospital. Once or twice he had thought he saw someone he knew, but he put that down to exhaustion.

Harry's plan was simple: he was to wait for someone to come to the shop front and speak to the mannequin dressed in green nylon. When the dummy motioned for them to step through the window, Harry would follow close on their heels. Simple.

He only had to wait about ten minutes before a middle-aged couple came bustling down the street to the window. Harry felt his heart quicken as he thought for a moment he knew them. There was no streetlamps near the entrance to the hospital and so Harry couldn't quite be sure, but some part of his mind was shouting a warning to him that he had seen these people before. Squinting in the darkness, his stomach lurched as he realised who they were.

"H-hello. We're back to see our daughter? H-Hermione Granger?" the man spoke nervously, as though speaking to a shop window dummy made him uncomfortable.

Harry was rooted to the spot. He hadn't even thought of the possibility that Hermione's Muggle parents would come to see their daughter. Weren't they in Australia? Someone from the Ministry must have gone to find them to see what had become of their daughter. He couldn't do this, not with them there. It was too risky. He needed to wait – come up with a new plan – but he didn't have the time.

 _'No. I have to see her.'_

Before he could change his mind, Harry leapt through the window behind the Grangers, emerging into the brightly lit waiting room of St Mungo's. There were people everywhere: a dozen people were lined up to speak to the witch behind the desk, another large group waiting by the lift to travel to a higher floor. It was going to be difficult to move through everyone under the cloak.

Harry only then realised he had no idea where to find Hermione, and he could hardly ask someone for assistance. He scanned the waiting room, trying to see where Mr and Mrs Granger had gone. No doubt they would know where their daughter was, all Harry had to do was follow them. Trouble was, in his delay at following them through the window, he had managed to lose them in the crowd. He was on his own.

Harry made himself as small as possible and began to scurry through the crowd in an attempt to get to the welcome desk. He bumped into several people, but the room was so crowded that they didn't even bother to turn around. He noticed a number of large posters covering the wall, but they were all too obscured by people to read any of them. When he had made it through most of the crowd he could see the floor guide up on the wall behind the desk. Harry scanned it until he found what he was looking for, and began to make his way to the stairs to go to the fourth floor – Spell Damage.

As he reached the stairwell, Harry got his first proper glance at the posters he had only glanced at earlier and his mouth fell open.

WANTED

HARRY POTTER

ON SUSPICION OF AIDING THE DEATH EATERS

THOSE WITH INFORMATION REPORT TO THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

PRIZE OF 5,000 GALLEONS

Harry stared up at his own face, grinning beneath the bold accusation. It was Undesirable No.1 all over again. Now having a better vantage point, Harry could see the same black and white image of his face all over the walls of the waiting room. If any of these people knew he was there…

The stairs were much quieter than the lift and so Harry could climb them quickly without needing to worry about knocking into anyone. As he came out into the main corridor of the fourth floor, he looked ahead and saw Mrs Granger disappear into a door further along. There were more of the Wanted posters on this floor, as Harry made his way down the corridor under the scrutiny of his own gaze.

The last time he had been here, Harry had been with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and they had run into Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry hoped Hermione wasn't sharing a room with him.

When he got to Hermione's room he was relieved to see she had her own private room, just like some of the other long-term residents in this ward. Taking a deep breath, Harry walked through the door, which had been left open.

It was a nice room overall. Hermione's parents had obviously done their part to make the room as homely as possible. There were photos on the walls of her family and friends and a small bookcase beside the bed, full to the brim with textbooks. Harry's stomach clenched slightly at a moving photo of him and his two best friends at the end of their first year. God, they were small. Harry would do anything to have that day over again.

Dragging his eyes away from the happy but painful memories, Harry looked over to the girl lying on the bed and his throat tightened. At first glance, she was still Hermione: the large bushy hair was the same, the grazes and bruises were healing, leaving behind the same face of his friend. But looking deeper, Harry could see that she wasn't there. As her parents sat on either side of the bed talking to her, there was no recognition in Hermione's eyes of the people she loved. The bright twinkle of intelligence had gone too, a blank emotionless stare left in its place. This was not the Hermione he loved as a sister; this was her empty shell.

Raising his hand to his mouth, Harry swallowed the sob that threatened to escape. He could only watch in silence as her parents spoke soothing words to her about her life, encouraging her to remember. Harry stumbled back and slid down on to the floor and listened.

"Hermione, dear, do you know who these people are?" Her mother held out the photo Harry had stared at earlier.

Hermione's blank gaze shifted from her mother to the photograph in her hand. There was no flicker of recognition.

"That's me, there," she stated simply. "I don't know who those boys are. I've been wondering. Are they people I met at school?" Her voice was dull – void of all emotion. It broke Harry's heart to hear it.

"Yes, sweetheart," her mother encouraged. "The boy there is Ron Weasley. And the other boy is… Harry Potter." Mrs Granger hesitated only slightly before saying Harry's name. Harry wondered if she believed the Wanted posters.

"Harry Potter? But he's a criminal!" Hermione said shrilly. "I certainly would never make friends with a criminal."

Harry couldn't take anymore. He left the room and stood outside in the corridor. He wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. One of his best friends, the girl whom he loved like a sister, thought him a criminal. In her vulnerable state, she had seen the posters covering the hospital walls and believed their every word. Harry had been condemned before Hermione had even had a chance to remember. He wondered if her parents had told her about Ron. He wondered if they knew.

Harry didn't know why he stayed. Why he didn't just leave. Was it loyalty? Stupidity? He had done what he came to do; he had seen Hermione, and while it had ripped him apart inside he did not regret it. Still, he stood outside her hospital room not wanting to go, but not wanting to stay. He was torn.

After what felt like hours of indecision, Harry had made his mind and turned to go back to the stairs. Just as he got halfway down the corridor, he heard Mr and Mrs Granger's voices.

"We'll be back soon, Hermione," her father said. "We'll bring you something." And together, he and his wife left their daughter's room. They walked past Harry, who had stopped in his tracks, and went to climb the stairs to the tea room.

Without thinking, Harry turned back the way he had come and strode back to Hermione's room. He stood in the doorway and watched her. She was still holding the photograph of the three of them, gazing at it with that lifeless stare. Harry looked at her, silently begging her to remember who he was before becoming a wanted criminal. He wanted to talk to her and tell her about their years at Hogwarts, the stories her parents would never know to tell her. The stories that, now, only _he_ could tell.

Harry found himself walking to her bedside, and soon he was close enough that he could have pulled her into a hug like he so desperately wished to do. Instead he watched on in still silence as she frowned at the lost memory in her hands.

"Why," Hermione whispered, "would I befriend a criminal?"

"Because I'm not a criminal." And before he could stop himself, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from his head and looked at Hermione, who had turned sharply at Harry's sudden appearance. There was a brief moment where Harry thought he saw a flash of recognition in those glassy eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione beat him to it.

"HELP! THE BOY FROM THE POSTER IS IN MY ROOM! HARRY POTTER!"


	14. Chapter 13

Doors could be heard crashing open all along the corridor. Footsteps thundered on the polished floor, bringing shouts closer to where Harry stood frozen by Hermione's bedside still in plain view.

' _Put the cloak on. Move!'_

His limbs finally following orders again, Harry stumbled away from the bed and managed to throw the cloak back over himself. He didn't even bother to curse his stupidity – he would have time for that later – as the room began to fill with people. Healers and Ministry officials filed inside the small room, each brandishing a wand.

"Potter, you say? Well, where is he, girl?" demanded the witch at the front of the group. She was wearing official Ministry robes. Harry didn't recognise her.

Hermione was still staring at the spot Harry had just disappeared from and appeared unable to talk. When it became obvious that she was in no state to speak, the same witch began barking orders.

"This floor needs to be closed off; no one gets in or out. Every room in this ward gets searched. He can't have gotten far." The two other Ministry officials left the room, leaving the head Ministry witch and two Healers.

"Ma'am, don't you think he would have apparated out by now?" one of the Healers suggested uneasily. The way he spoke told Harry that this woman was not to be trifled with.

The Ministry witch smiled nastily in response. Harry was reminded sickeningly of Dolores Umbridge.

"Potter isn't going anywhere. Once the alarm has been raised, anti-apparition and portkey wards are activated. He's still here somewhere. You," she pointed at one of the Healers, "see if you can get any more information from this girl." She thrust her thumb over her shoulder at Hermione who still hadn't moved a muscle. Harry bristled at the woman's rudeness. "And you, come with me," she ordered the other Healer.

Just as they were walking out the door, Hermione found her voice.

"How did he do that?" she whispered.

The Ministry witch came to an abrupt stop and turned back to stare at Hermione in eagerness.

"Do what, child? Come on, out with it! What did Potter do?" she had marched to the foot of the bed and leaned over the railings, visibly frustrated at Hermione's less-than-speedy response.

"It's alright, dear, there's no hurry," the Healer that had been instructed to stay behind sent the witch a disapproving look which was ignored. "Just tell us in your own time. What did you see?"

"I don't know," Hermione shook her head slowly as she spoke. "I was alone, then he was here, then he wasn't here." She said all this very slowly as if trying to work it out. A small bead of sweat slid down Harry's neck. He silently begged his friend to stop talking. How many people in the Ministry knew about his cloak?

"What is this nonsense?" the Ministry witch snorted derisively. "I don't have time to listen to unhinged schoolgirls," she declared as she turned to head back out the door. Harry was about to let out a silent sigh of relief until Hermione uttered the words to his undoing.

"He hid under an invisible sheet."

Nobody spoke. Both Healers looked at each other in confusion, but the Ministry official's eyes were clear with realisation.

"The cloak," she murmured under her breath.

"Sorry?" the Healer still by the door asked. The witch ignored him.

" _You sneaky little_ – Potter is still here. He's hiding under his invisibility cloak." She began moving slowly around the room, her hands out in front of her grasping at the air. Harry quietly backed into the corner of the room and made himself as small as possible. He was sure they must be able to hear his heart thundering in his chest.

The Healers hadn't moved from their places. Instead they were both staring at the Ministry woman as though she had lost her mind; quite fitting when one remembered what ward they were in.

"Ma'am –" one of them began, but cut themselves off when the woman stood up straight and flourished her wand.

"I don't have time for silly games, Potter. _Accio cloak!"_ she cried. Despite knowing that his cloak couldn't be summoned, Harry couldn't help but hold on to its folds a little tighter. When nothing happened, the witch relaxed her wand.

"He must have slipped into the corridor before we got here. He's still in the hospital somewhere, I'm sure of it." And with that she finally left the room.

The Healer beside Hermione broke the silence first.

"I'll stay here with Miss Granger. You had best go and see if you can help somewhere. We don't want to upset Madam Prestwick," he added nervously. The other Healer left without a word.

Harry silently let out the breath he had been holding. With only the one Healer and Hermione remaining in the room, Harry allowed his body to relax as he considered his situation. He was effectively trapped. The only escape route available was the front door, and with a whole hospital full of Ministry officials and Healers on high alert it would be almost impossible to make it without being seen. With the wards that had been placed, he didn't even have the option of simply waiting out the remaining time until his portkey left. His only option was to move.

With one hand covering his mouth to muffle his breathing and groans of pain, Harry slid himself back up the wall into a standing position. He was overcome by another wave of light-headedness and was grateful for the support of the wall; he would be lucky if he didn't pass out before he made it back to America. Several slow, deep breaths later, his head was clear and Harry began to make his way around the perimeter of the room, sticking as close to the walls as possible. Hermione and the Healer were having a quiet conversation, though what about Harry did not know; he was too focused on making it to the door in absolute silence.

Once he got to the open door, Harry peered out into the corridor. There were people everywhere. About a dozen people, mostly Ministry members some of whom Harry did recognise, were standing guard in clearly marked out segments of the hallway. Word had obviously been delivered about Harry's use of the invisibility cloak and they were making it as difficult as possible for him to manoeuvre without bumping into anyone. A sharp snap of a door to his right caught his attention; a Ministry wizard was closing all the doors to the wards and private rooms. This Prestwick woman thought of everything; Harry couldn't open a door without being seen.

The Ministry wizard was drawing closer until Hermione's door was the next one to close. Harry had to make a choice: stay in Hermione's room with her and the Healer, or venture into the corridor and face dozens of Ministry and St Mungo's workers. One would keep him safe but trapped, the other a nigh on impossible route to the exit. Making a decision, Harry stepped out of the room and stood against the wall just to the left of the door, out of the way of the wizard closing doors who was just making it to Hermione's room.

"Ah, Everett, you're still in here, then," the man said to the Healer with Hermione. "Madam Prestwick has requested all rooms be sealed off in order to trap Potter. Will you be staying?" He spoke through his nose in a pompous manner that made Harry want to hit something.

"I certainly will, sir, if that won't be a problem," Everett replied casually, either not noticing the tone of the whining man or otherwise too polite to give a reaction.

"Not at all," the man said. "Perhaps it is wise for this room to be staffed as it is where Potter was first sighted. It is possible he is still in here…" he trailed off as he narrowed his eyes, peering down his nose around the room.

"Quite right, sir," replied Everett.

The man began to pull the door shut and Harry shifted his position to move out of the way, but then the man stopped and stared back inside.

"Everett, what's that by your foot?" he demanded, and stepped into the room. Curious, Harry put his head around the corner to have a look. His stomach plummeted.

"Hmm? Oh, it probably just fell on the floor. It's empty," and he held up the little ink bottle in his hand.

Harry furiously began rummaging through the pockets of his jeans but they were all empty. He looked back at the ink bottle in the Healer's hand. It must have fallen out when he had hurriedly put the cloak back on. He needed to get it back. He –

"Throw it out, would you?" And before Harry even had a chance to react, the door was snapped shut. His only guaranteed escape route had just been thrown into the rubbish. Now he was panicking.

His decision had been to step out into the corridor so as to get to the main entrance of the hospital and get out. That decision had been made before he lost the portkey, though. Now he needed to get back _inside_ Hermione's room which was impossible without alerting every person in the corridor. He needed someone else to open it for him. How long would it be until someone had to go inside, or the Healer, Everett, came out again? Harry didn't even know the time and how long it was until the portkey would leave. He wanted to scream.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Harry backed against the wall and observed the Ministry patrollers. All along the corridor they had formed barriers of people, three of them spanning the width of the hall. It was going to be difficult to get past them without being detected, but before he could worry about that Harry needed to get the portkey.

"Hey!" Harry whirled on the spot at the sudden shout, thinking he had been spotted. A Ministry wizard standing in a row just near where Harry stood was the one who had spoken. "When do we assume he's gotten away?"

' _Now. Why don't you all just go, now?'_ Harry thought desperately.

"Madam Prestwick," whined the nasal-voiced man, "believes a thorough search of this floor should be finished in thirty minutes, at midnight. Until then, no one is to leave their post," he challenged.

Midnight was in thirty minutes. Harry had half an hour to get the portkey and get out of the hospital. Thirty minutes. He wanted to scream again.

' _OK, I need to get inside Hermione's room.'_ Harry looked around at the wizards and witches; none of them looked as though they were going to move let alone open the door. _'I need a diversion.'_

Down the end of the corridor by the stairs he had come up earlier, Harry could see a small rubbish bin; it was the sort of object that someone in a hurry could easily knock over. And if it were to fall over seemingly by itself, it would be natural for anyone standing guard looking for an invisible fugitive to leave their post and investigate.

So when the rubbish bin fell over thanks to a carefully aimed Banishing charm by Harry, he was left with an empty hallway for metres either side. Leaving no room for hesitation, Harry strode up to the door to Hermione's room and swung it wide open.

"Yes?" Came the voice from inside.

' _Damn.'_ Harry had completely forgotten about the Healer, Everett.

The man stood up from Hermione's bedside with a frown on his face and slowly walked toward the door. Harry slipped past him so as he was properly inside the room, and began his search for the bin. It didn't take long to find the small waste paper basket nestled in under the bedside table, and sitting right on the top was his ticket to America. Picking it up, Harry stuffed the ink bottle back into his pocket, making sure it wasn't going to fall out again, and turned around.

Everett was staring right at him.

Harry froze. Had the Healer seen something move? Harry was sure he was still covered by the cloak and so he started to backtrack very slowly away from the bed. Everett's eyes didn't follow and Harry allowed himself to relax. The Healer started to close the door again, but stopped at the sound of shouts in the corridor.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MISSED HIM?!" The shrieks of Prestwick carried down the entire length of the corridor. Everett walked out to see what the noise was about and Harry darted to follow him. Just before he stepped outside he turned to look at Hermione once more; above her lifeless eyes her brows were furrowed in confusion at the sudden yelling from outside. Harry stared, whispered a promise only he could hear, and stepped out of the room.

At the end of the corridor, Prestwick was admonishing the Ministry workers for leaving their post and letting Harry get away. He began to sneak towards them; there was a gap about two feet wide between a witch and the wall, a space Harry would have to fit between to get down the stairs. The closer he got, the clearer the anger on Prestwick's face became; she was a tall and broad woman, and she used her entire frame to tower over the others. Her neck was glowing red and spittle flew from her lips, landing on those unfortunate enough to be at the front. She was a truly terrifying force and Harry began to feel slightly sorry for those on the receiving end of her fury. He quickly remembered, though, that those same people were trying to find and arrest him. All sorry feelings evaporated.

Harry was beginning to feel quite faint, and so it was with great hesitation that he slid around the wall and stepped down onto the first step. He glanced back up at the witches and wizards gathered. No one had noticed him. Harry was so close to Prestwick now that he could have reached out and touched her. Not wanting to risk exposure any longer, Harry slowly backed down the stairs, not taking his eyes off the Ministry officials, with one hand on the wall to keep him steady. When he felt he had gone far enough, he turned around and hurried on silently.

Once he got about halfway to the ground floor, a sudden wave of dizziness came over Harry and he had to stop. He hunkered down onto the bottom step and took in deep breaths to try and calm his turning stomach. If he didn't get something to eat soon he was going to pass out, and then he'd never get out of St Mungo's. As the world tilted, Harry noticed a clock on the wall.

 _11:51pm._

Could he make it out in nine minutes? His churning stomach and spinning head said no, but they weren't the ones he was listening to. Ignoring every complaint in his weak and aching body, Harry used the hand rail to pull himself to his feet and continued to stumble his way down the stairs.

When Harry got to the ground floor and looked out into the waiting room, he almost cried out; with the whole hospital in lock down, every visitor had been instructed to go to the foyer and wait for further notice. There were almost three times as many people as there had been when Harry arrived. He couldn't even see the front door. There was no way he would be able to get there. Harry's head was throbbing by now, and he felt as though he were going to be sick.

"Make way, please!" A tiny wizard tried yelling close to where Harry stood. The mass of people could hear nothing, as the rumble of voices droned on. Frustrated, the tiny wizard pointed his wand into the air and –

BANG!

Silence fell on the crowd.

"Out of the way, please, ladies and gentlemen. Ministry workers coming through." In Harry's delirious state, he had failed to notice just where the little man had been standing. Suddenly the lift doors opened behind him revealing Prestwick and six of the Ministry people from upstairs. The crowd parted like the Red Sea and Prestwick led her team out of the lift. Seeing no other option, Harry threw himself out from his hiding place and followed them hot on their heels.

It was difficult to find a balance in where to walk; in front, Harry was trying not to tread on the hem of the Ministry wizard's robes, and behind, he was quickly being closed off as the crowd moved back to fill in the vacated space. Ever so slowly they moved through the crowd until Harry could see the main entrance. Two Ministry wizards stood either side, not allowing anybody inside to leave. Prestwick began to speak to them, while those who had been following moved off to the side. Harry now stood directly behind Prestwick, her and the two wizards she spoke to blocking off his path to the exit.

Harry soon became aware of a light vibration coming from his jeans' pocket. The portkey was getting ready to leave. He had to get out, though; with the wards set up, the portkey would not be able to leave, and then he'd have no way of returning to America. That would be disastrous. His best bet was to get out into the street, except that meant getting through Prestwick and the other two wizards. There was a small gap between them, but he'd never fit through without being noticed. It didn't look as though they had locked the door, so Harry made his decision and leaped forwards.

Cries of alarm went up as Prestwick and the two Ministry wizards went sprawling, seemingly of their own accord. Harry scrambled over the flailing bodies in an attempt to get to the door, but Prestwick wasn't done.

"IT'S HIM! IT'S POTTER!" she shrieked, clambering to her feet.

Harry didn't turn back to see if anyone was coming to her aid. He got to the exit and threw himself forwards, through the glass. He could see the street now. He'd done it.

Then someone landed on him and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. They went rolling into the gutter, Harry desperately fighting to get free. Someone else's hands grasping at his cloak, he managed to free himself and roll away from his attacker. He turned around just as Prestwick got to her feet, Harry's cloak in her hands. The portkey began to tremble more violently and Harry could now see a blue light shine out of his pocket. He removed the ink bottle and held it up, the bright glow lighting both his and Prestwick's faces.

Prestwick threw the cloak to the side and pointed her wand at Harry, who dove gracelessly to the ground only narrowly avoiding the curse that flew towards his head. Still holding the ink bottle tightly in his hand, Harry knew he only had seconds left. He stretched his hands out towards the cloak lying on the road just as he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel –

– and he went sprawling on the grass, the ink bottle falling out of his grasp. He scrunched his empty hands into fists – he had lost the cloak. Harry buried his face into the soft earth and screamed in frustration, not caring if there was anyone nearby who would hear. The cloak had been the only thing he still had from his father and now it was thousands of miles away on a different continent. He was never going to get it back.

Turning over he noticed the long stretch of concrete – he had landed by a road. Fighting to hold on to consciousness, Harry squinted and could just make out a car coming towards him. He knew he should move, but he was far too weak. Instead he just closed his eyes and let the darkness envelop him.


	15. Chapter 14

Stepping out of the Forks hospital, Carlisle took a deep breath of fresh air. Today had been exhausting; he couldn't remember many days that had been more stressful than today. With the ongoing investigation of Harry's disappearance, the hospital had been full of police officers running about asking questions while doctors tried to get on with their jobs. Many had become frustrated, insisting that they knew nothing about the missing boy, and the police had left them alone. They would be back though. They had still found no evidence, for which Carlisle was thankful.

At a leisurely human pace, Carlisle made his way through the carpark to his Mercedes. It was only four o'clock in the afternoon and yet he was finished for the day. The hospital had decided to let him off early after being in the hospital until four o'clock that morning and returning only three hours later. If he were human, Carlisle would be exhausted from lack of sleep and stress. As it were, he still felt decidedly worn out and in need of a break.

When he reached his car, instead of getting inside, he perched himself on the bonnet and looked around the carpark. Two police cars were still parked out the front of the hospital, one of which belonged to Chief Swan. The Chief had spoken to Carlisle again today to tell him what was going to happen.

* * *

" _Doctor Cullen!" Chief Swan called out across the main foyer. "Mind if we have a word?"_

" _Of course, Chief," Carlisle smiled. "Let's sit in my office."_

 _The two men walked through the corridors exchanging small talk until they made it to Carlisle's office. Unlocking the door, Carlisle moved aside to allow Charlie to enter._

" _What can I do for you, Charlie?" he asked as he gestured to the spare seat for the Chief to sit._

" _Well, Carlisle, I just wanted to update you on the situation," Charlie began. He had dark circles under his eyes; while Carlisle had gone home briefly that morning, Charlie had stayed at the hospital all day. He sat slumped back in the chair as though grateful for a few minutes rest. Carlisle felt sorry for him._

" _As it turns out, the blood in the room was all Harry's. There're no signs of a struggle or any indication that another person was involved: no finger prints, no blood, nothin'." Charlie let out a long breath. "We're stumped as to what happened to the kid, and without the security footage," he muttered a curse as he mentioned the missing tape, "we have no real way of finding out."_

 _Carlisle observed the defeated man in front of him. He wished he could give Charlie the information he wanted, but that would mean betraying Harry. Carlisle wanted the boy to return and so felt the need to protect his secret, whatever it actually was._

" _Did you find any sign of him outside?" Carlisle hated himself for asking these useless questions, but he felt the need to know everything the police had or had not found._

" _Nope," Charlie huffed. "If it wasn't impossible, I'd be willing to say the kid vanished into thin air."_

 _Carlisle gave a tight smile._

" _Yes, it does feel like that, doesn't it?" Saving him from saying anything more, his pager went off. He was needed in emergency._

" _I'd better let you get back to it, then," Charlie said as he stood. "Sorry for keeping you."_

" _Not at all, Charlie," Carlisle replied as he too stood to leave. "I appreciate you keeping me updated on Harry's disappearance." He couldn't help saying Harry's name with a little emotion, making Charlie pause and look at him._

" _You really are worried about the boy, aren't you?" he sounded almost awed._

" _Of course. Harry is a very special young man."_

* * *

"Carlisle?"

Coming back to the present, Carlisle turned towards the voice; it was Simon.

"Thinking heavy thoughts, are you?" he asked, leaning against the car beside the Mercedes.

"Just wondering where Harry is," Carlisle admitted. Simon gave a light chuckle.

"You and everyone else in this town. There was something peculiar about that kid."

"Yes, he was certainly diff–"

Hold on.

"Sorry, everyone in this _town_?" Had he heard that properly?

Simon looked at him, bewildered.

"Of course! What do you expect? Nothing stays secret for long in Forks, especially something as big as a patient going missing from the hospital. Apparently everyone in town has been talking about it today."

This was bad. This was very bad. The whole of Forks couldn't possibly know about Harry, could they? How much would they know? Perhaps Harry shouldn't come back to Forks. He could get into deep trouble if he returned and the police found him. They would ask all kinds of awkward questions.

"How much do they know?" Carlisle's mouth was suddenly very dry.

"Well, they don't know anything major, of course," Simon assured him. "Nothing like his name or where he's from or anything. Heck, that's all that we know! Nah, it's just the general stuff, you know, that a kid has gone missing from the hospital and no one has any clue where he's gone."

Carlisle relaxed slightly. Perhaps it wasn't so bad. There was still the problem of the entire hospital and police department knowing exactly who Harry was. They would have no doubt if they ever saw him again.

' _What am I thinking? I'm getting ahead of myself; who ever said Harry would come back?'_

"You should probably get home, Carlisle," Simon spoke up, pulling Carlisle out of his thoughts once again. "You look exhausted."

"I probably should, you're right. I'll see you tomorrow, Simon. Call me if there are any updates."

"Of course," Simon assured him. "See you, Carlisle." He turned and headed back inside the hospital.

Carlisle gathered himself together and got into his car. There was no point hanging around at the hospital any longer. He had been told to go home and rest, and that was what he planned on doing. Partly.

He pulled out of the carpark and was soon out in the minimal traffic of Forks. Before long he made it to the edge of town and sped up; he knew exactly where all the police officers were today, and none of them were out looking for speeding cars.

Carlisle allowed himself to think again. He needed to let Harry go. Even if there was any chance the boy wanted to return to Forks, it would most likely be too dangerous for him to stay. No doubt someone would recognise him and he would be taken in for questioning by the police. Carlisle hoped that wherever he had gone he had friends with him. The boy's words about family had troubled Carlisle deeply.

A bright, blue light coming from ahead brought Carlisle out of his thoughts. He slowed his Mercedes slightly, keeping an eye and ear out for anything strange. He was most of the way back to the house and so there was nothing but the trees that stretched on forever on either side of the road.

All of a sudden he braked, the car screeching to a halt. Had he not been driving slower than usual he could have easily missed the body lying beside the road. A very familiar body.

' _Oh no.'_

Pulling the car over so it was off the road, Carlisle switched off the engine and jumped out without even bothering to close the driver's door. The smell that hit him when he stepped outside was all the confirmation he needed.

It was Harry.

Carlisle flashed to the boy's side and was relieved to see he was still breathing, though only just. The breaths were slow and ragged, and his heartbeat was weak. Carlisle could smell that Harry hadn't eaten anything in the time he'd been away and guessed that he hadn't drunk either. Carlisle hadn't seen the boy eat or drink once while he was at the hospital; Harry was too weak for his body to stay awake. He needed nourishment.

Carlisle went to pick Harry up to put in his car, but stopped. What was he thinking? He couldn't take the boy home with him. If Harry woke up in a house full of vampires he would try to escape no matter what his condition, and that could make things much worse. Taking him to the hospital was impossible as the whole place was still on the lookout for him. No. The best thing for Carlisle to do would be to treat him as best he could here in the forest and try to convince Harry to accompany him home.

Carlisle hurried back to the car and grabbed an old unused coffee cup that he kept for appearances. This time he shut the door and locked it before racing back to Harry and carefully picking him up. Once he was sure Harry was secure, Carlisle went to move his foot and kicked something along the ground. Looking down he saw a stick come to a gentle stop. He almost ignored it until he felt a tugging memory at the edge of his mind; this belonged to Harry. Taking extra care not to jostle Harry too much, Carlisle pocketed the stick and carried the boy away from the road, deeper into the trees.

There was a creek very close by and that was where he headed. Carlisle placed Harry down gently against a large tree and took the stick out of his pocket to set it down. As he held it, Carlisle noticed how beautiful it was. It was well polished and elegantly carved. It vibrated ominously in his hand, as though it knew what was holding it. Somewhat unsettled, Carlisle placed it down beside Harry and went to fill up the coffee cup.

The water was clear and cool to touch even for Carlisle. He carried the now full cup back to Harry and knelt down beside him. He allowed himself a moment to look at Harry's physical condition. The boy's hands were covered in cuts, Carlisle presumed from the glass in his hospital room. Some of the deeper ones were bleeding and would need stiches if Carlisle ever had the opportunity to do that for him.

Unable to resist the temptation, Carlisle carefully shifted the boy's dark fringe to reveal the thin scar he had seen briefly in the hospital. It was the most curious scar Carlisle had ever seen, a perfectly drawn lightning bolt etched into the skin nearly as old as Harry himself, suggesting he had received it as an infant. Carlisle wondered if he would ever learn of its significance.

Dipping his hand into the water, Carlisle gently flicked his dripping fingers at Harry's face.

No reaction.

Carlisle did it again. This time Harry groaned.

"Ron, stop – gerroff…" Harry's eyes moved behind his closed lids.

Carlisle cupped some water in his hand and threw it in Harry's face.

The reaction was instant; lurching upright, Harry coughed and spluttered, his face dripping. Eyes still closed, he removed his wet glasses to wipe them. Carlisle watched as he then gave his eyes a quick rub before replacing his glasses back on to his nose. As the coughs subsided he opened his eyes. Harry yelled out in surprise.

Carlisle took a step back in alarm. Harry's eyes were wide in fright as he took in his surroundings.

"Where am I? What have you done? What's going on?" Carlisle could sense the hesitation and fear behind the demand. This was not the same boy Carlisle had treated in the hospital; gone was the confidence and self-assuredness. That had been stripped away in the boy's absence, leaving behind a frightened teenager.

Carlisle put his arms out in front to show he meant no harm, and went to take a step forward.

"Harry, I –"

"Don't come any closer!" He shouted, his hands scrabbling around on the ground. His hand closed around the stick Carlisle had placed next to him and he picked it up. Brandishing it like a weapon, Harry pointed it right at Carlisle's chest. Carlisle froze.

Using the tree behind him for support, Harry managed to get to his feet while keeping the stick pointed at Carlisle. He took his hand away from the tree and stood for a moment before clutching his head and staggering dangerously. Carlisle strode forwards and caught him before he hit the ground. Carlisle could feel Harry writhing in panic in his arms.

"Let me go!" Carlisle ignored him and helped him get his feet firmly planted. When Harry was standing again Carlisle still didn't remove his hand from the boy's shoulder and Harry tried to wrench himself away.

The boy was panicking, Carlisle could see that. Harry gripped tighter on to the stick in his hands and closed his eyes. Carlisle was about to call out to him but before he could get the words out the ground disappeared from beneath him and the air squeezed around them.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in his office looking out over London. The fake window was showing the city as a real time image; it was dark, just after one in the morning, the streets quiet. The Ministry was equally silent. Kingsley was only still here because he had been told of an urgent report coming in from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had been waiting for a long time now; he would have liked to have gone home.

A soft hoot from behind him made Kingsley turn around. Perched on his desk was a large barn owl, and beside it a package. Kingsley turned to look at the clock on the wall. Harry should have arrived back in America by now, which meant that it was safe for him to be sent the other items Kingsley had for him.

Pulling out his wand, Kingsley tapped the stand the owl sat upon, causing it to glow blue. He then tied the package to the owl's leg and stepped back. Just as the bird stand began to vibrate, a sharp knock came from his office door. The owl vanished in a blue light just as the door opened and a woman stepped inside with two men in her wake. She paused and stared at the spot the owl had just been with narrowed eyes.

"Ah, Prestwick," Kingsley broke the suspicious silence. "I was told that you would be visiting."

Prestwick snapped her eyes from the desk to meet Kingsley's gaze, and her cold stare was replaced with a cruel smile. She strode forwards and placed a bag upon the desk.

"Minister, so good to see you again," Prestwick sneered. "I just wanted to deliver this to you." She gestured to the bag on the desk. Kingsley opened it and made sure not to let the worry show on his face.

"Potter's invisibility cloak," he muttered. "Impressive. Where is he then?"

"He went to St Mungo's to visit that girl, like we expected. Unfortunately he evaded capture," she elaborated, the cold smile never leaving her face. "Potter managed to escape by means of a portkey, which is rather interesting, don't you think?" Her voice was toying now. Kingsley wrapped his hand around his wand inside his robes.

"It is certainly unexpected," he replied. Kingsley noticed the two gentlemen who still stood by the door reach inside their own robes, no doubt going for their wands.

"It is interesting," Prestwick continued, "because Potter should not know how to set up a portkey, which means that someone must have given it to him. _That_ must mean that someone is helping him." She spoke with confidence; she knew exactly what was going on. Kingsley gripped his wand tighter.

"It is also interesting that he was in possession of his invisibility cloak which was, as I understood, in the hands of the Ministry. Now, Minister, I hope you can help me understand this, but how is Potter to have used his cloak when it was in the possession of the Ministry, hmm?" The smile slid from her face.

"The game is up, Minister. I don't know where you sent Potter with that portkey, but mark my words we'll find him," she threatened coldly, her eyes shining in the light. "I know that I saw another portkey disappear off this desk when I walked in. If you're helping Potter then I'm afraid we can only assume you're a traitor to the Ministry," she sighed, pulling out her wand. Kingsley waved his wand and stepped back into solid air. He frowned.

"Oh, and don't bother trying to disapparate. I've already taken care of that," she smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. From outside suddenly came shouts of panic.

"Whoops, silly me," Prestwick laughed. "I forgot to mention there was a little gaol break earlier. I guess that one must have missed your notice." The door swung open and four men filed in. Giving Kingsley no time to react, the Death Eaters' wands were raised and mouths opened.

Kingsley raised his wand, but there was nothing he could do to shield himself from the bright flash of green light.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello everyone. Thank-you so much for the continued support. It means a lot. I know that some people have grown frustrated with the slow updates and short chapters. While I understand your views, I won't be changing how the story is updated. The more important thing to me is well edited and proof-read chapters that come out on a consistent schedule. Getting a new and properly complete chapter out every week is my main focus, and is something that I intend to continue. I have every intention of finishing this story, as it is something that has developed in my mind for a long time now. This update schedule allows me to also keep up with the rest of my life studying medicine at university. So, thank you once more for all the support, and I hope you understand why I update like I do and you can continue to enjoy the story.


	16. Chapter 15

Harry's feet slammed onto solid ground and, at last, he felt the grip on his shoulder loosen. Trying not to panic, he wrenched himself away from the vampire and went sprawling on the ground. He knew they hadn't gone far, but Harry's eyes couldn't focus; all he could see was white as his head throbbed and his stomach lurched. He needed to apparate while he wasn't being held and so he raised his wand. As he tried to disapparate, the whole world spun and he was sent heaving the non-existent contents of his stomach.

OK. He wasn't going anywhere.

Lying down and breathing heavily, Harry fought to remain conscious. He was in trouble; he was effectively trapped with a blood-thirsty vampire and no way to run or defend himself. His vision was beginning to clear and the green blurs around him solidified into a canopy of leaves above his head. If he hadn't been in such a dangerous situation, he would have allowed himself time to pause and appreciate just how peaceful it was. As it were, he slowly turned his head until he found his company.

The doctor – ' _Vampire,'_ he corrected himself – was sitting on the ground, cross-legged and a good distance away from Harry. The look on his face was curious; if Harry had not known better, he would have taken it to be a look of concern. Without dropping eye contact, Harry tried to drag himself further backwards but found he couldn't. Now that the adrenaline had mostly worn off, all of his previous aches and pains had returned with a vengeance. Harry let out a soft hiss of pain as his shoulder cramped up, and immediately tensed at the sudden twitch from the vampire. It stayed where it was.

Now in a slightly more comfortable position, Harry continued to watch _Doctor_ Cullenwarily. Harry wanted him to leave and just let him find his own way to safety. He also knew how unlikely that was; if he didn't get food and water soon he would lose consciousness once again, only this time he most likely wouldn't wake up.

The silence between the two was heavy as though neither wanted to be the first to break it. Several times both opened their mouths to speak, but quickly closed them again. Sighing in defeat, Harry was the first to talk.

"What do you want?" The vampire flinched at his harsh tone. Good.

"I just want to help you, Harry." For some reason Harry's skin crawled at the use of his name. There was that look again; the vampire's face furrowed in concern.

"Why?"

"You're still my patient and I want to see you better," the _doctor_ insisted. Harry scoffed.

"And so, what, you're still my doctor, are you?" He let out a strangled laugh. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to just get rid of me? Haven't I caused you enough trouble?" A definite look of hurt flashed across the vampire's face as Harry asked these questions.

"Harry, I understand that I have not yet earnt your trust; however, I have no intention of hurting you. That is not in my nature," the vampire tried to assure him. This time when Harry laughed it was loud and rich.

"You expect me to believe that? That you aren't going to hurt me? To kill me?" A part of Harry wondered if he'd be at peace, then. What did he have left to live for without the Wizarding World? Without his best friends?

"Of course I don't expect you to believe me," the vampire replied. "But that doesn't mean it isn't true." Harry wished he would stop looking at him with that 'caring doctor' look. It was making him uncomfortable.

"I can't trust you. You're a –" The word caught in his throat at the doctor's reaction; Doctor Cullen winced and his body went rigid as though Harry's words were a verbal attack. In a way, Harry supposed, that was the intention. But the reaction he had gotten made him question himself as he felt traces of guilt stir in the pit of his stomach.

Neither of them spoke for a time, the end of Harry's unfinished sentence hanging heavily between them. Why couldn't he say the word? _Vampire._ He could _think_ it, but his voice wouldn't let him say it out loud, as though once it was said, any illusion of Doctor Cullen being a normal man would disappear. It would make the truth only that much more real. Harry didn't know if he wanted to face that.

Why couldn't he go back to before he found out the doctor's identity? Would things be different that way? The truth was harsh, Harry decided. This vampire didn't want Harry to know what he was. He wanted to remain hidden away among humans, going through life. Isn't that what Harry was supposed to do now? Hide away from his own world and live an ordinary life as a Muggle? What if he didn't want that? What if he couldn't see the point anymore? What then?

"How much do you know?" the soft voice pulled Harry out of his depressing thoughts. He looked over at the vampire who hadn't moved from his spot on the ground.

"That depends," Harry muttered. "How much do _you_ know?"

The beginnings of a smile began to tug at the corners of the vampire's mouth, but he waited a few moments before he spoke.

"I know that you know what I am," he began calmly, as though merely commenting on the weather. "I know that nothing about you makes sense. In the short time that I've known you I've seen you save lives, make objects explode, and disappear into thin air." He spoke with a suitable level of awe in his voice as he listed what Harry had done. Harry hadn't realised the vampire had seen all of that, but then again he hadn't been very careful.

"I admit I have no clue about what you are, so in terms of a name your secret is intact. I have seen enough, however, to know that you are a very special young man," the doctor finished, and looked at Harry with nothing short of admiration.

In that moment, Harry felt a mixture of feelings: mainly he felt awkward that a deadly creature was praising him, slightly guilty that not a moment ago he had spoken with anger and insults, but finally there was a small part of him that needed to hear the doctor's praise, because while he was admiring Harry for what he had done and what he could do, he was also accepting him. And that was all that small part of him wanted.

As quickly as the emotion appeared, it vanished again. In his mind, a switch flicked and something snapped inside of Harry. He looked up at the vampire with burning hatred.

" _Don't,_ " he threatened. It came out as a harsh whisper, but the vampire still heard him and stared, wide eyed in confusion.

Harry wasn't stupid. No matter what it said, this creature was still a vampire and therefore should not be trusted. Harry was fully aware of its intentions to get him to open up about what he was. Perhaps it theorised that Harry's abilities may transfer through his blood. Whatever it thought, Harry knew he was going to die. He would die alone and angry, with the vampire trying to make him feel better in his last moments. It was toying with him, pretending to accept Harry and what he was. Only now that was a part of himself that Harry wished he didn't have.

"You do _not_ talk about that," he hissed. He shifted into a more upright position, the jolts of pain in his body fuelling his anger. "You know nothing about me and what I've done. What I've suffered." His voice was trembling now, his fury boiling over. He started to stand, barely noticing the dizziness.

"I'm sorry, Harry, please, just calm d–"

"SHUT UP!" And the vampire did. "You don't GET IT! You can't possibly ever understand! I have nothing, can you not see that!? Nothing to go back to, nothing to call my own! That was all taken from me!

"Do it!" Harry shouted, his voice now strong. "I know you want to! Just end it! END IT!" he pounded his fists against his chest and took stumbling steps towards the vampire who was now standing, walking backwards.

"Harry, what –" the vampire stammered, a look of bewilderment on his flawless features.

"KILL ME!" Now he was sobbing. The tears that he had previously been unable to shed were now streaming down his face. "I DON'T WANT THIS ANYMORE!" His vision blurred and he collapsed on his weak ankle, falling to the ground in a heap. "I don't want it. I don't want it. I don't…" he trailed off into silence, the sobs wracking his exhausted body.

What use was there in living without them? One dead, the other thinking he were a criminal. It tore him apart knowing he could never speak to them again. Never share their laughter. Never have their comfort. He needed them now: Hermione telling him he could get through it, Ron to make fun of him and make them both laugh to feel better. But he would never have that again. How could anyone expect him to carry on without them?

And so he lay there, silently sobbing, until he had no more tears to shed and his eyes stung against the cold evening air. He was alone in the world, banished from his home to save his own skin. He hated it all. He hated the Wizarding World for turning on him. He hated the Ministry for making him the hunted. A part of him hated Kingsley for giving him nothing to go on, nothing to live his life by. Ron and Hermione; he hated them for leaving him. Most of all he hated himself; he was letting the world break him, crush him under pain and suffering. He needed to shut it out. Everything, out of his mind.

And so that's what he did.

Pushing himself upright, Harry removed his glasses and wiped his face on his sleeve. He was all too aware of how pathetic he must seem, crying and snivelling in the dirt, but he didn't care. That was behind him. No more crying. No more snivelling.

Harry turned and glared coldly at the vampire who still had not moved. The pained look on its face had not changed either. That annoyed Harry.

"OK, this is what's going to happen," he announced, his voice steady and strong once more. "You're going to leave me alone. You're going to forget you ever met me, and go back to doing whatever the hell it is you do with your existence." If the vampire wanted to fool itself by helping humans, that was its problem, not Harry's.

The vampire looked at Harry and shook his head.

"I won't do that, Harry," he said apologetically. "You need my help and I want to give it to you."

"No," Harry interrupted, "I don't. I don't need you, or anyone, to help me. I'm better on my own."

"For God's sake, Harry, you aren't well!" the vampire cried. "You haven't eaten in days! If you don't get the proper nourishment soon your body will start to shut down!"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I can find stuff for myself. Don't!" Harry shouted, shutting down the vampire's next interjection. "I don't need people to fight my battles for me. That's not in my nature," he mimicked the vampire's words from earlier. "You will leave me and you will forget about me."

For a long time neither of them spoke, both simply staring, waiting for the other to give in. Harry wasn't going to budge; he was resolute in his desire to be left alone to fend for himself. Gone were the days when he would rely on others to get him through. He was alone, and that's how it was going to be from now on. Don't make allies you'll only end up losing.

The vampire doctor's phone began to ring, but he made no move to answer it. The loud ringing reverberated around the trees, disrupting the silence that had built. The hospital, Harry supposed, must be contacting him. Just as he was starting to get a headache from the noise, it stopped.

Obviously seeing the determination in Harry, the vampire was the first to surrender.

"OK," he conceded. "I will leave you. Just remember, Harry, if you ever need someone –"

"I won't."

"– I will always be happy to listen. Take care." With that, the vampire turned around and began to walk away.

"Don't try to find me." Harry insisted to the vampire's retreating form.

"As you wish," he heard him murmur. Soon enough, Harry was alone, with nothing but the sounds of the forest for company.

* * *

"You moron! Look what you've done!"

Edward sighed. Emmett and Jasper had been playing the same mind-numbing video game for five hours now. This was just one of many similar outbursts that afternoon. Edward had initially been sitting on the couch watching them blow each other up and had tried to get into it himself as a distraction, but that hadn't worked. He had been all together hopeless at the game and was thrown off as quickly as he had been offered the controller, so he decided to go and find something else to distract him.

Edward's mind had been turning ever since he finished his hunt earlier that morning. After his conversation with Carlisle he had felt hopeful that things were working out, but as the day had worn on his doubts had returned. He felt ashamed of himself that he hadn't been able to keep his uncertainties at bay for even twenty-four hours. He had promised himself and Carlisle that he would try, but perhaps he had underestimated how difficult it would be.

The thing that was particularly playing on Edward's mind was that Carlisle was yet to return home despite finishing at the hospital almost an hour ago. He had phoned Esme to let her know he was being told to go home early, and yet he was nowhere to be seen and they hadn't heard from him since. It was quite likely that he had been caught up with an emergency or speaking to a colleague just as he was leaving, but Edward wasn't so sure. He wasn't entirely convinced it didn't have anything to do with Harry.

He found his sisters out in the garage, talking animatedly while Rosalie tinkered with her BMW.

"Hey, Alice, have you –"

"No, Edward," she interrupted agitatedly, "I still haven't seen anything. Don't you think I would have told you if I had?" Edward had been asking Alice every five minutes for the past half an hour about any sign of Carlisle, but her visions were still showing her nothing.

"Yeah, I guess. Sorry, again." His sisters returned to their conversation, and he went to go find Esme. Maybe she would be more interested in his worries.

He found his mother in Carlisle's study, architecture plans spread out over his desk. As Edward watched her she appeared calm, but he noticed the small frown line between her brows that only appeared when she was worried. She had taken the news of Harry's vanishing act the worst despite Carlisle's best efforts to leave out the details of the blood.

"He'll be home soon, Edward," she assured him without looking up from her work.

"But Esme, he should have been home ages ago," he whined, all too aware of how childish he sounded. Esme looked up at his tone.

"He's been held back hundreds of times after thinking he was able to leave, Edward. This will just be another emergency he has to deal with, I'm sure of it." The words she spoke were comforting, but Edward could tell that she did not quite believe them.

"Have you tried phoning him?" He asked. Esme sighed.

"Edward, if you want to try, go ahead and call him." Edward could tell he had overstepped an invisible boundary. She was determined not to worry and Edward wasn't helping. So he left.

Walking down the hall to his own bedroom, he closed the door and pulled out his phone to dial Carlisle.

It was ringing.

…

" _You have reached the voicemail of –"_ He hung up without letting it finish. No answer.

Carlisle _always_ turned his phone off when going into surgery, and Edward could only think of a handful of times where Carlisle had not been there to answer his ringing phone, the most recent being yesterday morning. He was almost convinced that this had something to do with Harry, whether Carlisle was talking to the police again or something else had happened.

Edward lay back on his bed in frustration. He couldn't let himself think such things; it was possible that Carlisle had been rushed into surgery so suddenly he hadn't gotten a chance to switch off his mobile. The excuse sounded flimsy in Edward's head but he clung to it, not wanting to come up with any reasons that involved Harry.

After a few minutes, Edward sat up quickly. Had he imagined it? Or was that really Carlisle's Mercedes turning off the highway? A couple more seconds of listening confirmed that he wasn't imagining it: Carlisle was back.

Racing out of his room and down the stairs, Edward almost crashed into his father as he was running _up_ the stairs.

"Carlisle, wha–"

"Not now, Edward!" Came his father's harried reply. He heard Carlisle curse in frustration. "Where are the tents?! Never mind!" He raced back down the stairs.

 _Tents?_

The rest of the family had now congregated into the kitchen where Carlisle was scrabbling around in the cupboards, tent and sleeping-bag slung over his shoulder.

"Bread. Esme, do we have bread?"

"I– I bought some today," she answered him quickly. What was he doing?

"Perfect!" Carlisle cried, grabbing the bread and kissing his wife quickly. Grabbing a thermos from under the sink, he then proceeded to fill in with water and seal it tight. "I'll be back soon!" And with that he bolted out of the house.

"He's finally lost it," whispered Emmett. The six of them stood there staring at the still open front door. Wherever he was going, Carlisle hadn't bothered to drive, he just ran. Moving as one, the others turned to look at Edward, but he hadn't a clue either. He just shook his head. Without saying a word, they filed in to the living room.

They only had to wait fifteen minutes for Carlisle to return, clothes rumpled and looking incredibly proud of himself. He opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to notice his dishevelled state and ran upstairs. In thirty seconds he was seated in the living room in a fresh change of clothes, ready to talk.

"Harry came back," he said simply.

' _Oh, good. More drama,'_ Rosalie sneered internally.

"Is he alright, Carlisle?" Esme really had been worried about him.

Edward watched as Carlisle hesitated, debating with himself what to say. Eventually he decided on the truth.

"No," he said sadly, "he really isn't. He hasn't eaten or drunk for days, he's severely malnourished. But he doesn't want any help. He doesn't trust me. He's insisted that I leave him alone to fend for himself. That I forget about him." The frustration was evident in Carlisle's voice; it had torn him apart to abandon Harry.

"So you gave him bread and water," Emmett said, sounding like it all made sense. Edward wasn't convinced though. What about –

"What about the tent, though?" Jasper countered.

"Well, duh, he gave that to Harry to sleep in, right Carlisle?" Alice asked.

"Well," Carlisle began, "not exactly…"

* * *

Alone was rubbish, Harry quickly decided, especially when fighting just to stay awake and up on two feet. After Doctor Cullen had left, Harry had stayed for a while in the same spot until he felt he could walk for a while. He had to find water, at least. There had to be a stream nearby.

The main problem with being alone, he felt, was having nothing to distract him from his thoughts. The pain in his heart had been altered into a numb emptiness, a sensation that he clung on to. He could cope with numb; anything that wasn't the pain. He focused on spreading the numbness to his mind. He wanted to forget.

After he had been slowly trudging through the trees for about fifteen minutes, Harry came across what appeared to be an abandoned campsite. A two-man tent stood in the clearing, flap wide open and waving in the breeze as though beckoning him over. Strangely there was no one in sight. Cautiously, Harry began to approach the tent, but when no one jumped out at him, he relaxed and peered inside.

A single sleeping bag lay on the floor of the tent, but there were no other possessions at all. Getting down carefully to his knees, mind spinning at the slight change in altitude, Harry crawled inside for a better look and his jaw dropped at what he found. Sitting at the back of the tent, still in its plastic bag, was a whole loaf of bread. It hadn't been touched; not even one slice was missing. Next to it sat a thermos, which Harry felt was full of something when he picked it up. He was so hungry, but he couldn't take someone else's food. Could he?

Poking his head outside, he had another look around. There was no sign of anyone being nearby. There were no bags with clothes or other camping equipment in the tent. It truly did look abandoned. Pulling his head back inside, he looked longingly at the bread and thermos. Maybe just one slice…

Before long, Harry had eaten all but three slices and drunk half of the water in the thermos. All too used to eating whatever he could get at the Dursleys', he did not care that he was eating plain bread. As far as he was concerned, it was the best meal he had ever had. Now fed and watered, Harry felt a lot better. No one had come to the tent despite it now being dark outside, and so Harry assumed that his initial impression that it was abandoned was correct. He could almost feel his blood sugar rising, and with it, his tiredness. Letting out a huge yawn, Harry had just about set himself down in the sleeping bag when there was a scratching at the tent flap.

Suddenly feeling much more awake, Harry held his wand aloft as he slowly unzipped the tent. As soon as it was open, something large and soft pushed its way inside.

"ARGH!" Harry yelled, unable to see anything in the dark. " _Lumos!"_ The inside of the tent suddenly filled with light and Harry almost screamed again as two bright eyes lit up in front of him. Perched on top of a large parcel, was a tall, brown barn owl. Harry waited until his heart stopped racing before voicing the obvious question.

"Who would be sending _me_ mail?"

Reaching forward, Harry untied the parcel from the owl's leg. Free of its load, the bird hopped over to the remaining pieces of bread and began to peck at them. Turning over the thick envelope, Harry saw the seal of the Ministry. This parcel was from Kingsley.

Quickly breaking the seal, Harry opened the top and poured out its contents. Out fell dozens of files and cards, all of them with his full name on them.

' _What on earth?'_

Picking up the top page, Harry saw it was a letter, and so he read.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope that this letter finds you well and safely back in America. I apologise for not entrusting you with these items when we last spoke, however I felt that it would be best to wait until you returned to the States._

 _If you have looked through some of these files already, you will have noticed that they are all identification documents. As of today, you are an official American citizen. Inside you will find all the necessary documentation to prove as such, as well as birth certificate, full history of Muggle schooling, driver's licence and passport. All of your money from Gringott's has been placed into a bank account, details of which are enclosed also._

 _The other main inclusion in this letter (and I hope you will accept it) is the deeds to a house that has been purchased in your name. It is nothing very large, I assure you, and was all paid for out of your own money (as I know how much you dislike charity). You mentioned that Forks was the name of the town you visited, and so it is situated just on the edge of the same town. Of course I do not know if you intended to stay there, or to find somewhere else to live. If you would prefer to find other arrangements, the house can be sold without a problem._

 _While I am sure you are not thrilled about it, I believe it would be best for you to enrol in the local high school, my recommendation would be as a Junior (I believe that is what it is called). You should have just under two years until you graduate._

 _With the exception of the house deeds, all of these documents are of course fake. I can give you my complete confidence and assurance, however, that they will fool any Muggle who reads them. This is my way of giving you the easiest start possible in America._

 _The rest is up to you, Harry. Thank-you once more for all that you have done for us, and I wish you the best in the remainder of your life._

 _Yours most sincerely,_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 _Minister for Magic._

 _P.S. The owl, should you like to keep her, is yours. She has no name, as the Ministry does not bother with naming their owls. I'm sure she would provide you with some company._

Harry couldn't believe it, but as he looked through the pages he knew it was true: British and American passports, birth certificate, census details. It was all there. There was even a wad of American notes to get him started. How could he have been angry at Kingsley earlier?

The house was the only thing that bothered him. Did he really want to live here in Forks where the vampire could find him? Had he not a couple of hours ago, given a great speech on wanting to be left alone? And as for enrolling in high school…

Harry sighed. He was too exhausted to think about this but he needed to make a decision or else he would be thinking about it all night. The best sounding plan was to move; sell the house and get as far away from Doctor Cullen as possible. Though with that came complications; where would he move to? Harry knew nothing about America, he _still_ didn't even know what side of the country he was on, so how could he find somewhere new to live?

Kingsley had said the house was on the edge of Forks. That could be alright, couldn't it? Away from most of the public, he could hide away without getting noticed. Except Kingsley wanted him to go to school, something that would definitely draw attention to him. Just under two years, he had suggested. What if he just stayed for half a year until he knew more about where he was? Then he could look for a new house somewhere else. Harry smiled at his plan. It certainly wasn't concrete at the moment, but he could sort out the rest in the morning.

A loud _hoot_ from beside him reminded him of the presence of the owl. It was very tall and handsome for an owl. The eyes that had originally scared Harry half to death were now friendly. He reached out to stroke the bird's face and was pleased when it let him. Perhaps it would be nice to keep her.

"Do you want to stay with me?" He asked the owl. Getting a soft hoot in reply, Harry took that to be a yes and smiled. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

He leaned over and opened the flap again to let out his new friend.

"I'll still be here in the morning, alright? Go and hunt," he told her, and she flew off into the night.

His exhaustion now returning quickly after the excitement of the letter, Harry lay back down in the sleeping bag. He realised moving to Forks could be the stupidest thing he's ever done, but how likely was it that he would come across more vampires than the doctor, especially at a high school? Smiling at the absurdity, Harry turned over and allowed himself to fall asleep.

 **––––––––––––** **END PART ONE ––––––––––––**


	17. Chapter 16

**––––––––––––PART TWO––––––––––––**

This was going to be hell. Of that, Isabella Swan was certain. There was very little she found worse than starting at a new school, especially in a small, cold, rainy town that she hadn't visited for nearly four years. Now, she was 17 and dreading her first day as a Junior at Forks High School.

She had arrived yesterday morning into Port Angeles airport to find that her father was nowhere to be seen. He had phoned to apologise profusely that he wouldn't be able to make it to the airport because of an emergency at the hospital in town. Instead, he told Bella to get a cab for which he would leave money out at home.

Bella didn't complain; her father was the Chief of Police in Forks and so there was always the possibility he would get called to work at unexpected times. So Bella had grabbed her bags and dragged them outside to the line of cabs waiting. The cab driver's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when Bella told him where they were going, and sure enough when they made it home she found a healthy sum of money under the door mat.

After settling herself in to her old room, Bella had only seen Charlie for a short while that night when he returned home for a couple of hours sleep. He had been at the hospital for the whole day, leaving Bella to get her things in order at home and freak out about the next day, which would be the start of her time at Forks High.

Now she sat in her driveway in the driver's seat of her pick-up truck, which Charlie's friend Billy from the nearby reservation had given her, dreading what she was about to do. It was still ages before school started, and yet Bella was still trying to work up the nerve to leave. It didn't help that she was starting most of the way through the semester; with any luck she will have already covered most of the curriculum, but it wasn't the studies that were worrying her.

Bella had never been one for meeting new people. While others enjoyed going out until late at questionable parties, Bella preferred to be at home curled up with a book or watching television. In Phoenix where she had been living with her mother, her classmates had learned to accept that, for which Bella was thankful. Now, here in Forks, she would have to instil that notion into a whole new cohort.

Sighing in recognition of the unavoidable, Bella put her truck into gear and reversed out of the driveway. There was a light drizzle, the same drizzle that had been going since she had arrived the previous day. Such was the norm in Forks.

A short while later, she turned into the school parking lot and took a space as far away from the entrance as possible. She turned off the roaring engine and sat back in her seat; there were very few cars in the parking lot since it was still an hour until school started. Bella thought it best to wait until the lot was fuller before she got out; she would be harder to spot in a larger crowd of people.

As she sat there, she spared a worried thought for Charlie; she had heard him come home at three in the morning before leaving again soon after, hardly stopping to sleep. He had only told her briefly about what he was doing; something about a patient going missing from the hospital. Some foreign kid. She lost interest shortly after that.

Before long, the parking lot began to fill and Bella deemed it safe to walk to the main office. Walking quickly and keeping her head down, she managed to make it all the way without speaking to anyone. The inside of the office was plain and unimpressive, as was the woman sitting behind the desk. Mrs Cope, her name plate read.

"Ah, you must be Isabella," the woman said, looking up from her computer. Bella simply smiled in response. "Here is your schedule and a map of the grounds to help you find your way, though I'm sure you'll quickly make some friends who will be only too happy to help." Mrs Cope said this with such certainty and belief that Bella didn't dare disagree out loud. Instead she thanked the woman, took the documents from her and made her way outside to begin the trek to her first class: English.

She decided that the best way to go about things was to look like she knew exactly where she was going, which of course she didn't. She had memorised the way to Building 3 and began to walk along the wet path behind several other students, none of whom were paying her any attention. Good.

Walking up the stairs into the dry of the building, she managed to find the correct room and walked inside. She handed the slip she was to get signed to the teacher, who handed her a book and told her to find a seat. Making her way to the back of the room, Bella found a seat and sat down, doing her best to ignore the stares that people were casting her over their shoulders.

At last the lesson was over and Bella was free to leave for her next class, until one of her classmates decided they had to say hello. How Bella wished they didn't.

"Uh, hi there. You must be Isabella. I'm Eric. Eric Yorkie," the boy seemed harmless enough, yet Bella still felt uncomfortable.

"Um, just Bella," she insisted. That was another thing she would have to get used to correcting again.

"Do you need any help finding your next class?" Eric asked, rather hopefully if Bella guessed right.

"I've got Government with Jefferson," she supplied, hoping that Eric wasn't in that class too.

"Oh, well, I'm heading that way, too. I could show you if you like?" His smile was friendly, but Bella just felt awkward.

"Uh, sure. Thanks," she tried to give a smile of her own, but it came out looking pained.

They began their walk back out into the drizzle in relative silence, for which Bella was thankful; however, of course, things don't normally go Bella's way.

"Hey, your dad is chief of police, right?" Eric asked innocently. Bella merely nodded in response. "Has he told you anything about that kid that went missing from the hospital?" He looked at her eagerly. Bella didn't understand why he cared; kids went missing all the time, why was this one so special?

"Um, no, not really. We don't really talk much about his work." That was true; she and Charlie didn't talk about much at all.

"Oh, alright," Eric said, slightly put out. "You're building's just up there. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Bella nodded, hoping she could sit by herself at lunch. "Thanks for the directions."

The rest of the morning passed by in the same fashion; one of her classmates would ask if she wanted help with finding her next class and while walking they would ask questions about Phoenix, or how she was liking Forks. Eric remained the only one who questioned about her knowledge of the missing boy.

Finally, it was lunch. Happy that the day was almost over, Bella followed the pack of students to the cafeteria, doing her best to keep her head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone who had spoken with her. She managed to do so until she made the mistake of lifting her head to search for an empty table. A girl from her Spanish class – what was her name? Jane? Joanna? – was waving her arm in the air beckoning Bella to join them.

 _'So much for keeping to myself.'_

Grudgingly, Bella began to slowly make her way to the table, where she now noticed a few more of her helpful classmates; Eric was seated beside Joanna, speaking animatedly to the boy beside him. What was his name? Mike, that was it, Mike Newton. On Joanna's other side was a girl Bella had not yet met; she gave Bella a friendly smile from across the room. It was next to this girl that Bella sat down.

"Hi there, I'm Angela," she said with a huge smile that Bella couldn't help but return. "It's so good to finally meet you, Jess was just telling me about you." Ah, Jessica, that was it. Not Joanna.

"Hi, it's good to meet you, too," Bella replied, the first time she had actually meant those words today. Suddenly, Jessica gasped.

"Oh my god, Angela, you'll never guess what Lauren told me today."

Bella zoned out at this point. Hidden between all the _"No way"_ s and _"Yes way"_ s, Bella was sure there was some piece of news, though what it was she couldn't work out. The boys were arguing about some kind of sport, though whether it was baseball or football Bella had no idea. Faced with a possible moment of peace, she busied herself with looking around the cafeteria.

Forks High was a much smaller school than her old one in Phoenix, where she was able to walk around without people feeling the need to say hello. Here in Forks, however, it was small enough that everybody knew each other, even those not in their year. Bella was almost certain that everyone already knew who _she_ was. Just as she was about to return her focus to her bland lunch, Bella's eyes trained on to a group of students entering the cafeteria. Her heart stopped.

These people couldn't be real. There were five of them, all looking like they had just walked off the red carpet. They were breathtaking.

"Angela," Bella croaked. She tried again. "Angela, who are those guys?" She asked, trying her best to sound casual. The look on Angela's face told her that she hadn't been successful.

"They're the Cullens and the Hales," she replied, as though that should answer her question sufficiently.

"They're all foster kids," Jessica piped in. "Adopted by Doctor and Mrs Cullen. They moved here a couple of years ago and live further out of town." Scooting herself closer to the other two girls, Jessica went into more detail. "The big guy – that's Emmett – he and Rosalie – the super pretty blonde chick – are together," she explained, Bella noticing a hint of disgust in Jessica's voice. "Then the tiny girl is Alice. She's with the blond guy, Jasper, the one that looks kind of pained, yeah? Anyway, Jasper and Rosalie are twins, they're the Hales. The others are Cullens," she finished, sounding terribly proud, though of what Bella couldn't work out.

The four of them walked with purpose, not seeming to notice the open stares from their classmates. Bella could only assume they were used to it; she knew what it was like.

"What about him?" Jessica hadn't mentioned the fifth member of the group, who easily looked the youngest.

"That's Edward Cullen," Jessica explained, voice slightly strained. "Unattached and yet seems to think himself above any of the girls here." There was definitely some past tension there. Bella almost cared enough to ask what had happened.

She couldn't help but watch them as they moved to a table in the far corner of the room and sat down, not talking, not eating. Just sitting there. Once or twice she could have sworn she saw the one named Edward glance her way looking wary, though why he would be concerned with her Bella couldn't begin to understand.

"Bella," the loud voice of Jessica pulled her out of her thoughts. "Have you heard about the kid that's missing from the hospital?" Even the boys turned to listen.

"Jess, her dad's the Police Chief," Eric reminded her. "Of course, she knows about it."

Bella saw movement out of the corner of her eye and flicked her gaze back to the Cullens. Edward was openly staring at her now, and he wasn't the only one. The little one, Alice, was also wide eyed and shifting her eyes between Bella and her family. The other three appeared to be in a hushed argument.

"Yeah, Dad's working flat out at the moment," she said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I haven't been told anything," she added with a tone of finality, bringing the discussion to a close. Glancing sideways, she noticed Edward was now the only one paying her any attention. However, this time, even though Bella was looking right at him, he didn't look away.

Soon enough the bell signalling the end of lunch sounded. Bella took her tray to the trash and disposed of the food she had barely eaten. Looking up, she jumped in surprise at seeing Angela standing in front of her.

"You're in my Biology II class now with Mr Banner," she said happily. "Let's go."

Together they walked to class, Angela providing small bits of conversation. When they entered the classroom, Angela gave Bella a small smile before making her way to her lab table at the back of the room to sit with her partner. In fact, all but two tables were full. At one spare table, sat Mike Newton, smiling and beckoning her over to the empty seat beside him. The other table with a single occupant was the table directly behind Mike, and Bella's heart sputtered at seeing who it was.

Edward Cullen.

Turning away from the tables, Bella went to speak to Mr Banner, who signed her slip and handed her a textbook.

"Here you are, Bella," he said, guiding her to the desks, "you can sit here with Mr Cullen." Bella almost said no, that she would rather sit with Mike, but the teacher had already turned his back on her and walked away. Having no other option but to take a seat, Bella sat down and looked firmly ahead. Mike turned around to give her a disappointed smile, but didn't say anything. Perhaps he, too, found Edward intimidating.

At that point, much to Bella's relief, Mr Banner began the class. Trust her luck to be seated next to the person she'd been staring at all lunch period.

 _'Though to be fair he was staring at me just as much.'_ Somehow that thought didn't make her feel any better.

Bella managed to get through almost the entire hour without looking at Edward. She couldn't tell if he was still watching her. Risking a peek, Bella glanced sideways only to find Edward's pitch black eyes staring right back at her. Inhaling sharply, she returned her gaze to the front of the room and tried to focus on the remainder of the lesson.

"You're the Chief of Police's daughter." Bella let out a soft gasp at the quiet, soothing voice that came from beside her. It hadn't been a question. He knew who she was. Everyone did. She didn't trust her voice, nor did she turn to look at him, so she simply nodded.

"Perhaps he should stop searching." Bella whirled her head around, but before she could open her mouth, the bell rang and Edward was gone from the room.

"Hey," called a voice beside her. Bella jumped and turned to see Mike standing next to the seat Edward had just vacated. "We've got Gym, come on."

Bella followed him out of the classroom, so deep in thought she barely paid any attention to what Mike was saying.

"– ended up next to Cullen, hey? Shame you couldn't sit next to me, my partner dropped out of the subject just last week." Bella only murmured in agreement.

For the rest of the day, Bella couldn't help dwelling on what had happened in Biology. Why did Edward look at her like she shouldn't be trusted? And what the hell did he mean by what he had said? All the students were fascinated by the missing kid, but something was off about Edward's statement. He was acting as though he knew something.

Only vaguely aware of her body getting into her truck after school, Bella stared out the windshield at the red sports car containing all of the Cullens but Edward. As they drove away, Bella's mind was reeling. Something was up with the Cullens, particularly Edward, and Bella was going to figure out what.


	18. Chapter 17

To say Harry was alarmed when he awoke to find himself inside of a tent would be an understatement. It took him several seconds to realise where he was and why he had just spent the night camping. Sitting himself upright, Harry began to pick at the left over bread as he mulled over all that had happened the previous day. He seemed to have been on an emotional roller coaster ever since arriving in Forks, and could scarcely believe how much his life had changed in the space of a few days.

Looking around the tent he only found more evidence to support what had happened. Documents and files were strewn all over the floor, his own face staring up at him from several of them. These were the forged documents that would allow him to live in the Muggle world without suspicion. Before he had received the parcel from Kingsley, Harry hadn't even thought about all the documentation he would need. Thank heavens for Kingsley.

Finishing off the bread and the last dregs of water, Harry shuffled to the doorway of the tent and unzipped it to go outside. He stood upright and stretched out his sore body, pleased that his head and stomach were back to normal. He couldn't be sure what time of day it was; there was a thick cloud layer in the sky, making it impossible to see the sun. Harry could only guess that it was sometime in the morning, and made a mental note to buy himself a watch at the earliest opportunity. Perched in a tree nearby, Harry could just make out the sleeping form of his new friend.

Today, Harry decided, he would get himself settled in Forks. He needed to find the house that Kingsley had bought on his behalf, and then he would have to make sure he had everything he needed like food and clothes. Happy with his plan, he crawled back inside the tent and began to pick up all the documents and bundle them together. When he found himself packing away the sleeping bag as well, he stopped.

' _Can I really take this with me? It isn't mine, after all,'_ he pondered. Whoever it used to belong to had not shown up to reclaim it, which was strange. Despite never having gone camping properly, Harry could tell that this was not a cheap sleeping bag, and nor was the tent. Could he really take them with him when they were worth so much?

' _Don't forget: someone left them behind. They obviously didn't need them.'_ Or what if something had happened to them out in the forest? Perhaps they had been attacked by an animal or a…

' _Well, they won't be needing it anymore if that's the case, either.'_ Slightly disturbed with his thinking, Harry decided to pack the sleeping bag and tent to take with him. Remembering the beaded bag Kingsley had given him, Harry pulled it out of his pocket and shoved his things inside of it, not wasting time dwelling on the significance of the bag.

Soon enough he had everything packed, leaving no sign that anybody had been there. He still felt bad for taking the camping equipment, but it could come in handy someday. He walked over to the tree where his new owl was now wide awake and watching him reproachfully.

"Hey –," he would have to find a name for the owl soon. "I'm going to find this house that Kingsley got. Want to come with me, or will you find me later?"

The owl gave a short hoot in reply and settled itself back down on the branch. Harry took that to mean that he would be facing this challenge alone. Turning on the spot, he disapparated.

Seeing as Harry had no idea about the layout of Forks and where his house could possibly be, he decided that the best course of action would be to return to the highway and work his way slowly into town. As he stared at the long stretch of road in front of him, a new question formed in his head.

Left or right?

One way would lead him into town. The other, who knows where. Standing in the exact spot the portkey had delivered him, he tried to picture the scene.

He had fallen to the ground as he landed, his head close to the road. A car had been coming. Had that been the vampire? Or had he shown up later? Harry liked to think that a stranger wouldn't drive on past a person visibly injured by the side of the road, so it must have been Cullen. Which way had he come from? Harry tried to remember how he had landed. Was he facing right? No, wait. The car was on the same side of the road as him, he remembered that now. So that means he must have been facing left. OK, so if the car had come from that way, then what did that mean? It had been afternoon, so surely the vampire would have been leaving the hospital and heading home, meaning that he was coming _away_ from the town.

Harry blinked. He hoped he was right. Turning to the left, he began to walk.

* * *

' _This is idiotic,'_ Harry scolded himself. He had been walking for what felt like twenty minutes before he remembered that he didn't have to do this the slow way. So, he disapparated, appearing a few hundred feet further along the highway. Smiling to himself, Harry continued this until buildings started to appear.

The house's address Harry had read on his documentation meant nothing to him. While Kingsley had said the house was on the edge of town, Harry couldn't know for certain _which_ edge of the town it was on. Appearing as close as he dared to the first streets off the highway, Harry couldn't even notice any street signs. He needed a map, or else he could be apparating around Forks for days, and the best place to find a map was in the centre of town.

Taking a deep breath and crouching down, Harry disapparated, appearing behind the hospital. He felt his heart rate quicken at being back to where the vampire worked. He hoped its sense of smell wasn't good enough to find him out here.

Moving through the town was going to be almost impossible without his invisibility cloak, and the closer he was to the hospital the more likely it was that someone would recognise him. Peering around the corner, he noticed the carpark full to the brim with cars. They would act as good shelter, so he disappeared.

Now hidden between two large vehicles, Harry chanced a look at the hospital entrance and felt his heart skip a beat. Out the front of the hospital, two police cars were parked. Knowing that they were there because of him, Harry started to scout the area for the next sheltered area to apparate into.

"Hey! Who's there?!" A voice shouted out from somewhere behind him. Panicked, Harry rolled under the nearest car and didn't move. He could hear someone approaching, and suddenly there were two feet right where he had just been standing. He could have reached out and grabbed them he was so close.

"Where'd he go?" Harry watched the feet spin around as he didn't dare to even breathe. His heart was racing; if they found him…

All of a sudden, a knee appeared on the ground, and then another. He was going to look under the cars! There was nothing Harry could do now except wait to be found and hauled into a police car to be taken away for questioning.

"Doctor Morrison?" A new voice called out. The man beside the car paused. Two new feet approached the car, these belonging to a woman. "Simon, you're required in theatre. Doctor Cullen is waiting for you."

"Of course, Suzanne, I'll be there immediately." The knees straightened back up off the ground, and both sets of feet headed back to the main building.

Harry let out the breath he had been holding, sending up a large cloud of dust. Coughing, Harry extricated himself from beneath the car and waited until he could breathe properly again. That had been far too close. He needed to be more careful moving around in broad daylight.

Once he was settled again, Harry spotted a small group of trees on the other side of the road, and in a split second he was hidden in their shadows. This close call made Harry reconsider his strategy. He needed directions. The longer he stayed out in the open like this, the more likely someone would recognise him. True, only a handful of doctors and nurses had actually seen Harry, however, he didn't want to find out how good a description they had supplied. At least one of the doctors would have been able to give a highly detailed report. Harry wondered how much the vampire had told the police.

It was quite likely that the further from the hospital he was, the less likely anyone would recognise him. Perhaps that way he could ask someone where he had to go. Deciding this was his best way forward, Harry kept to the shadows and set off.

* * *

 _3 hours later_

This was it. His new house. And it was enormous.

It had taken Harry about an hour to make it far enough out of the town's centre for him to be comfortable no one would recognise him. Walking down the quiet street, he came across a woman tending to her front garden. He was reminded uncomfortably of his Aunt Petunia, constantly pruning the plants to make it as impressive as possible for the neighbours. Pushing his discomfort aside, he asked the lady for directions.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he had said, in a very poor American accent he copied from a television programme his Aunt and Uncle had once watched. "I was wondering if you could give me directions."

"Of course, hun," the woman replied cheerfully. "Where're you headed?" He told her the address.

"That's right on the west of town. Do you know the hospital?" Harry nodded. "Just head west from there along the main road and you'll get there soon enough on your right." Thanking the woman, Harry had continued his stealthy form of travel until he came at last to his new house.

When Kingsley had assured Harry in his letter that the house was nothing special, Harry had believed him. He had not expected the large white mansion that sat before him. A small set of steps lead up to a deck that appeared to stretch around the side of the house. An identical veranda wrapped around the upstairs level above it. Walking around the side, Harry noticed a number of large windows to let in the limited amount of sunlight the town seemed to offer. A gate closed off the backyard from the front, but Harry could see the large open area that lead off into the dense forest. Despite severely misjudging the size, Kingsley had been right about one thing: it was very secluded.

Walking back around to the front, Harry heard a loud hoot as a brown blur swept past the veranda; obviously his new owl had found their new home. He walked up the steps to the front door, which was large and oak. Unsure of what to do, Harry tried the handle but found it locked, and so began looking around for a key. After five minutes of searching and still finding no key, Harry was annoyed. Why could Kingsley not have given him the key, or at least left it somewhere for him to find? How did he expect him to –

Harry closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Pointing his wand at the door, he muttered " _Alohomora"_ and walked inside. The door opened into a small front room that was fairly plain. Going through a doorway to his right, Harry walked into the main living area. He was ecstatic to find it fully furnished; two large leather couches sat watch over the biggest television Harry had ever seen. Artwork decorated the wall, some of which Harry liked and others he didn't. If he decided to stay here longer he could easily change that.

A staircase took up the far wall, leading up to a wide landing. Still on the ground floor, Harry found the dining room and kitchen leading off from the living room. Stomach grumbling, Harry opened the fridge but was disappointed yet not surprised to find it empty of food. Just as he was closing the door, he noticed a bottle containing a vibrant green liquid, and attached to it was a note. He read:

 _Harry,_

 _Considering the state you were in when you visited my office, I thought it necessary to give you this. It is a concoction of potions specifically used at St Mungo's for patients who have been severely weakened. Take it before bed and it will restore your energy and help some of your more serious injuries._

 _Kingsley._

Smiling, Harry placed the potion back in the fridge and continued on with his exploring.

Strolling back to the living room, Harry walked up the stairs to the next floor. This was clearly where most of the bedrooms were; Harry found a further three, two with their own ensuite. A library, big enough to get lost in, and a study were the other rooms on this floor. Harry couldn't believe how big this place was for just himself. Compared to anywhere he had lived previously, this was a mansion.

As he walked out of the study, Harry's stomach gave out a loud rumble. He would need to go grocery shopping and stock up on things to eat. It was only just gone three o'clock. Heading back down the stairs to the front door, Harry walked past a mirror and saw his reflection for the first time in several days.

He was filthy. His hair was long, matted with dirt and blood and he was in desperate need of a shave. His clothes were disgusting after having been worn for four days straight, and his skin was caked in blood. Blue and yellow bruises still mottled his skin among the numerous cuts and gashes on his face and arms. Was this how he had looked when asking that woman for directions?

First things first, he needed a shower. No way could he go out looking like this again. After that he could go and get as much food as he could carry.

Stumbling into one of the upstairs bathrooms, Harry almost sobbed at the sight of freshly laundered towels and the biggest shower he had ever seen. On the shelf in the shower wall, sat another peculiar shaped bottle with yet another note attached.

 _Harry,_

 _This is a scrub used by Healers on surface wounds and injuries. Don't worry, it isn't painful, but it should clean and close off all those cuts, as well as get rid of those bruises._

 _Kingsley._

Discarding his filthy clothes, Harry jumped under the spray and wanted to cry again. He vowed from then that he would never take indoor plumbing for granted ever again. Kingsley's special soap worked exactly as he had described – Harry skin hadn't been this clear of injury in a very long time.

Feeling better than he had in months, Harry wrapped himself in a towel and considered his next problem. What could he wear? Venturing back into the bedroom, he tried his luck at one of the drawers, and was disappointed, yet again not surprised, to find it empty.

' _I guess Kingsley can't do everything.'_

Back in the bathroom, Harry reasoned his only solution was to Scourgify and Tergeo the living daylights out of the clothes he had been wearing. Clothes were another thing to add to the list of necessities.

Looking at his handiwork, it wasn't perfect; his jumper hadn't quite returned to its original colour, but it was at least clean. Proud of himself, he grabbed some of the money left by Kingsley, and went to begin the next challenge of locating the supermarket.


	19. Chapter 18

' _Why would you say something like that?!'_

Edward had been asking himself the same question for the past hour. As soon as Biology had ended, he had panicked and gone straight to his car. Now, he was still in the Volvo in the parking lot of the hospital trying to work up the courage to go and tell Carlisle what he had done.

' _The Police Chief's daughter, I ask you?! Idiot, idiot, idiot.'_

Edward didn't know what had come over him. From the moment he had seen the new girl, Bella as she liked to be called, he had been drawn to her; she was the second person in two days Edward had come across whose mind he could not read. Was this just a coincidence, or was he losing his gift? Was that even possible?

He had wondered if his inability to read her thoughts had indicated some sort of connection between her and Harry Potter, yet he had already dismissed that idea. There was no aura about her as there was with Harry, which could only mean that Bella's ability to block his gift was something entirely new and unrelated.

Great.

Carlisle was going to be furious when Edward told him what he had said. As his siblings had been quick to point out to him in their thoughts, all Bella would have to do is tell her father what Edward had said, and all the police's focus would be put on to their family. It would be because of Edward that they would need to leave, not Harry, and Edward wasn't sure if he could face being the cause of that.

Edward was certain that Carlisle would have figured out by now that his son was in the parking lot, but as usual he was showing him respect and allowing Edward to come and talk to him in his own time. Unless Alice had already phoned him and told him what had happened, but then, Edward thought, Carlisle would have come out to speak to him. There was nothing for him to do except go inside. He was here and had to take responsibility for what he had done.

Moving as slowly as humanly possible, Edward got out of his car and made his way to the entrance of the hospital. The receptionist looked up from her desk as he walked past, but didn't stop him, recognising him as one of Carlisle's children. As he got closer to his father's office, a conversation became clearer.

"– afraid that's what we'll have to do." Chief Swan was talking. Edward froze. Had his daughter already told him what Edward had said?

"Are you sure, Charlie? That seems a bit drastic, doesn't it?" Carlisle replied.

"That's how it's gotta be, Carlisle. Without any sign of him in almost forty-eight hours, in addition to the evidence we've already got, it's plausible. All that blood, the security footage being wiped. It's too suspicious to call it otherwise."

From what Edward could hear of his father's thoughts, this conversation didn't seem to be going the way Carlisle had hoped.

"I understand, Charlie. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Of course. Glad you understand, Carlisle. Have a good afternoon." The door opened revealing a very weary looking Chief Swan, who jumped at seeing someone just outside the door.

"Ah, Edward," came Carlisle's voice from inside, "you've met Chief Swan."

' _Edward, you look like you've seen a ghost. Relax, please.'_

Edward forced a smile onto his face.

"Of course, sir. Good to see you." He reached his hand out to the Chief, who had recovered from his brief surprise and returned the hand-shake firmly.

"Likewise," he murmured. "I'd better get back to the station. Carlisle." He lifted a hand in farewell to the Cullen men and strode down the hall. As soon as the Chief was around the corner, the smile dropped off Edward's face.

"Carlisle, what –?"

"Come inside, Edward." He moved, making way for his son to enter before him, and closed the door on them both. Edward watched as his father moved around to sit in his chair, while he stood in the middle of the room.

"Charlie's just informed me that Harry's disappearance is now going to be treated as suspected murder."

"Suspected –? But –," Edward spluttered. If the Chief were to learn what Edward had said now, they would be in serious trouble.

"I can't help but feel this is all my doing," Carlisle muttered to himself. "If I hadn't wiped the footage… why did I invest myself in Harry?" He closed his eyes and shook his head, defeated.

This time yesterday, Edward would have agreed wholeheartedly with Carlisle, but not anymore. He had promised.

"No, Carlisle, it isn't." Carlisle didn't raise his head. "If you hadn't found Harry by the road that day – well, either day – he would be dead, and you know it. And as for the security cameras, what do you think the Chief would have done when he saw what _actually_ happened?" What _would_ Charlie Swan have done? Would he have thought it was all a joke? Or would he start asking questions?

Carlisle sighed. "You're right, Edward. I just hope that Harry regained enough strength to help him on his way. I don't even know where he was headed, he wouldn't say – wouldn't let me ask," he began to shake his head again in sadness. Edward couldn't remember a time where Carlisle had looked more helpless. He knew without a doubt that Carlisle would not be happy once more until he knew Harry was safe and well.

"I'm sure he will be fine. Esme told us that the tent and everything you left out for him were gone, suggesting Harry found them and managed to leave. You've done all you can for him, Carlisle. He wants to be alone."

Why Harry wanted to be alone Edward couldn't quite understand. From what Carlisle had shared from their encounter in the forest, Harry had clearly been through something traumatic. Obviously he felt the best way for him to cope with that was to be on his own, but Edward knew what loneliness could do to a person. Despite Carlisle trying to hide it, Edward had seen enough of his father's two hundred years of roaming before he had begun to create his family. Edward wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

Carlisle didn't look convinced by Edward's words of comfort. Rather, he looked even more depressed as he was reminded of Harry's desire to be alone. It was only then that Edward remembered why he was in his father's office in the first place.

"Ah, Carlisle? There's something I should tell you… something that I've done," Edward looked down as his father raised his gaze to look at his son.

"What's happened?" Edward watched as images began swirling in Carlisle's head of all the possibilities.

"A new girl started at school today…" The images disappeared. This was not what Carlisle had been expecting. "I can't seem to read her mind." Carlisle's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

' _Do you think she's –'_

Edward shook his head. "No, she's not like Harry. From what any of us could tell she's one hundred percent human." Edward paused in worry. "Carlisle, what if my gift is disappearing? Is that possible?"

Sufficiently distracted from his previous mood, Carlisle's brow furrowed in thought.

"I shouldn't think so. I've never heard of such a thing occurring, and I don't believe Eleazar has either, however I can always ask him if you are that concerned. What is more likely is that this girl has some form of a mental block that she is almost certainly completely unaware of."

Edward had never heard of such a thing in a human, though he did feel better with Carlisle's reassurance. His gift hadn't lessened with anybody else; only the two newest people to Forks were able to evade his ability.

"That's not all that I need to tell you. I, um, may have said something to her that I shouldn't have."

"Edward, just tell me. I'm sure it isn't as bad as you're making it out to be," Carlisle comforted. Edward mentally disagreed.

"Her name is Isabella Swan. As in the daughter of Chief Swan, and she was made to sit beside me in Biology this afternoon as Harry sort of came up in conversation – no his name wasn't mentioned, Carlisle," Edward assured at the shocked expression that had appeared across his father's face. "But I may have suggested that her father should stop looking for Harry. I don't know why I said it, I was just sitting there and I started talking and I don't know what made me say it, Carlisle, I'm so sorry, all she has to do is tell her father –"

"Edward –"

"–and he'll start asking questions and then we'll all become suspects and –"

"Edward –"

"–we'll have to run and it's all my fault and –"

"Edward!"

Edward finally closed his mouth. If he were human, he would be bright red.

"Thank-you," Carlisle sighed as he got up and made his way around to stand in front of his son. "Edward, I understand that you're sorry and you weren't thinking, but we'll think of something. Do you believe that she will tell her father?"

"Why wouldn't she? She clearly knows about Harry being missing, we heard people asking her about it during break. I just handed her father a huge lead in what's now a suspected murder case!" Edward hissed, trying his best to keep his voice down.

Carlisle ran a hand through his blond hair, not even slightly disrupting its perfection, and let out a long breath.

"Look, if Isabella does tell Charlie, which we don't know that she will, I'm sure we can come up with something. For example, you obviously know more about what's happened because you're my son, so perhaps you've just taken the opinion that Harry is gone, as horribly sad as it may be. All is not lost, Edward," Carlisle said, grasping his son's shoulder.

Edward smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"You are most welcome, son."

 _Riiing riiing_

With a quick glance at the Caller ID, Carlisle held the phone to his ear.

"Alice? What is it?"

" _Carlisle? The family's future is gone."_

* * *

' _What's the point of sugar-free cookies?'_

Bella put the offending packet back on the shelf and continued her way around the Forks grocery store. After sitting in the school parking lot for a good half hour thinking about the Cullens, Bella had remembered that she had to buy something for dinner or else it would be another night of fish fry. She truly had no idea how Charlie had coped on his own for so long without starving to death; he was hardly gifted in the kitchen. But Bella was looking forward to the challenge of making meals that he would enjoy. It was the least she could do for him.

Today, though, Bella's heart wasn't in it, as she wandered down the aisles only half paying attention to what was on the shelves. Her mind was still back in her Biology class trying to make sense of Edward's words. What did he know about what her father had been doing? Sure just about everyone knew of the missing boy from the hospital, but this was a very odd thing to say. He sounded like he knew more than the average person did, which lead to one question; what should she tell Charlie?

Bella's first instinct had been to call him at work to talk about it, except she didn't want to say anything that would get Edward in trouble when she didn't know the reason behind his words. Charlie's reaction would be one of two things; either he would treat it as nothing, just something some pessimistic kid was saying, or he would overreact and spring the guy at his house for questioning. Not confident he wouldn't go for option two, Bella decided telling Charlie was not the way to go.

This decision had not allowed her the comfort of forgetting what happened. On the contrary, Bella knew that she would have to watch the Cullens closely at school for any other strange behaviour or words that could direct suspicion towards them. Only with enough evidence would she say anything to Charlie.

Still thinking heavily, Bella wasn't paying attention to where she was walking, and so gave a yelp of surprise when she collided with somebody.

" _Oof!"_ Bella landed hard on her backside. That would hurt tomorrow.

"Argh, watch it!" Came the annoyed grunt of the boy on the receiving end. Was that a foreign accent? "Here."

Bella looked up to see a calloused hand held out to her. Grasping it, she was swiftly pulled to her feet and got her first proper look at the man – or perhaps _boy_ was more accurate – she had crashed into. Despite the apparent age of his hands, he couldn't have been older than Bella. A mop of untidy black hair sat upon his head, plastered down over his forehead in an odd way. He wore round glasses over his bright green eyes, which were staring at her with annoyance and… something else.

Realising she hadn't said anything for almost a full minute, Bella blushed.

"Sorry. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going," she admitted shyly. Something about this boy was different; Bella felt oddly drawn to him, and yet staring into his eyes made her want to curl up and cry.

"Hmm, yes, clearly," he muttered coldly. "Maybe you should stop daydreaming and watch where you're going." He turned to walk away, and despite his clear desire to be left alone, Bella couldn't do that.

"I couldn't help noticing," she began to call out, "what's that accent of yours?" Without stopping or turning around, he kept walking. Bella followed. "Are you British, by any chance?" This made the boy stop.

"I'm an America citizen, if you must know," he turned around and glared at her. "Got a problem with that?"

Bella frowned.

"What? No? But you must have just recently moved here." Bella didn't know what had gotten into her. Since when did she actively try to continue a conversation with someone she didn't know? Watching as the boy's glare only darkened, she finally seemed to accept his attitude. "Alright, I'm sorry for bothering you," she said in a slightly hurt voice and turned to walk away.

From behind her came a frustrated sigh.

"No, wait. I'm being rude," the boy called out. "I've not had a very good time of late." Bella turned back, pleased to see that his expression had softened. The annoyance from before had gone, but that other look was still there that Bella was yet to place.

"I'm Bella," she offered. "Bella Swan."

He gave her a small smile, but didn't let it reach his eyes.

"Nice to meet you." Bella waited for him to give his own name, but it never came. "Do you go to school here?" What a strange question.

"Of course. I'm at Forks High, but I only just started today," she responded. "I just moved here from Arizona to come live with my Dad." Now she was giving out her life story? Why did this boy make her want to talk? He hadn't even told her his name.

"Right," he said simply. "Do you know how one would go about enrolling there?" So he _was_ new here.

"Well, if you go with your parents to the school, they can sort everything out for you," she explained. This guy would draw all the 'new-kid' attention away from her. She hoped he enrolled soon.

"I'm legally responsible for myself, actually. Can I do all that on my own?" This kid didn't have parents? Not even a guardian? Poor guy, no wonder he didn't seem to want to talk to anyone.

"Um, I guess so? You can only try," she answered, having no idea what the procedure was for emancipated kids at school. Charlie would know. "I could always ask my dad, if you like. He's the Police Chief here, I'm sure he'd know." Suddenly, the boy's eyes darkened, the look from before increasing ten-fold. Bella could identify it now; it was wariness.

"Um, n-no that's alright, really. I'll, uh, work it out on my own, thanks," he stuttered. His face had gone very pale, making him look quite unwell.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good," Bella asked, concerned. "Do you need a lift home?"

"No!" He practically shouted. "I mean, n-no, thank-you. I'm fine, it's just the, uh, jet-lag still affecting me. I should really go, it was nice meeting you, bye!" He said all this in a rush and bolted around the corner.

"Hey! Wait! You left your –!" He was gone. "– groceries." Bella sighed, picked up the boy's basket and started to return the items to their shelves. What was it with people acting weirdly around her today?

Muttering to herself about crazy foreigners, Bella finished her shopping and headed out to her Chevy. Driving home she began to wonder if moving to Forks had really been the best idea after all.

* * *

This could not be happening. First a vampire, and now the Police Chief's daughter. When would Harry meet someone who wasn't connected to people who were after him? So much for moving to America for a peaceful life.

After learning that the girl, Bella, had a father who could – and very well might – arrest him, Harry had left as quickly as he could and apparated straight into his living room. Now, he was lying on the couch, berating himself.

"That was the worst performance I've ever seen," he scolded himself. "If she didn't think you were acting suspicious before, she certainly will now!" The only thing he felt he had done right was to not give his name, though all Bella had to tell her father was that an English boy about her age, matching his description, was in Forks and acting fishy when the police were mentioned.

"I'll be arrested in my sleep," he muttered darkly.

Could he really go to school here? What with the vampire doctor and now Bella knowing about him, was it safe for him here? Without meaning to, he had already started to love the house Kinglsey had gotten him, and exploring the town had actually made him happy which wasn't an easy feat these days. But if it meant his safety over his personal comforts… maybe it was best for him to go.

' _Except…'_

If he left now, after looking like he might wet his pants at the mention of the police, was it safe for him to run? Would he not be drawing more attention to himself if he were to leave now? If he disappeared, it would look very suspicious, especially to Bella. Which meant one thing:

He had to go to school. Here.

Sighing in defeat, Harry resigned himself to enrolling tomorrow. He should probably get new clothes first, and from the results of his exploring there wasn't anywhere very suitable in town. He'd have to get a taxi and ask them where the best place was. Then he would go to try and get himself into school.

"This is going to end so badly."


	20. Chapter 19

_Snap…_

 _Snap…_

"I'm sure these are less hygienic than my bare hands," muttered Carlisle to himself. He discarded his filthy surgeon's gloves into the surgery's waste disposal and left the theatre to scrub his hands. It was all for show, of course; germs didn't attach themselves to vampire skin. That was just another odd trait that separated them from humans.

Drying his hands on a miserly piece of paper towel, Carlisle frowned. The past couple of days he had thought a lot more about the distinguishing features that defined his species. He had begun to distance himself more from humans, something he had not done since before he met Edward, and it was having a serious impact on his frame of mind. So far only his family had noticed his sullen moods and moping – the people he worked with all too used to his general reclusiveness to realise anything was wrong. But Carlisle was afraid it would not be long before even they would notice the disappearance of the twinkle in his eyes or the charming smile he always carried.

Of course only some of them could possibly realise the reason behind his changed disposition. Those who knew Carlisle had doctored Harry during his brief stay would understand the boy's disappearance had affected the doctor as though he lost one of his own. In a way, Carlisle felt as if he had. Harry's insistence at loneliness and solitude had connected him to Carlisle in a way the boy couldn't possibly comprehend. Having known that loneliness, Carlisle would never be able to distance himself from Harry Potter again, and this was something that only his family could understand.

With no recollection of how he had gotten there, Carlisle was back at his office and sitting behind his desk. This was another thing that had been happening recently; parts of his day and routine would pass by without so much as a notice from Carlisle. With no intention, he was operating almost exclusively in auto-pilot, something that was going to get him into trouble if he didn't start to control it soon.

Sighing, Carlisle leaned back in his chair and willed himself to relax. Glancing at the clock in his room, he was surprised to see that it was already two o'clock in the afternoon; it had been a longer surgery than he realised, meaning that he had been on autopilot for at least part of it. Knowing his own skill, Carlisle was confident that his work would not have been affected; however, that didn't stop his annoyance. Growling in frustration, Carlisle rose from his desk and began to pace. He was falling apart. Three hundred years of living as a vampire, never ageing, never tiring. Now he could feel those three hundred years piled on his shoulders, weighing him down. He was exhausted.

 _Riiing riiing_

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Carlisle was in half a mind to let it ring out. He quickly changed his mind when he noticed the caller ID.

 _SWAN CHARLIE_

Answering the call, Carlisle held it to his ear and opened his mouth, but he couldn't even get out a Hello before –

" _Carlisle, are you busy?"_ The Chief sounded agitated.

"The rest of my afternoon is quiet. What can I do, Charlie?"

" _I need you to come down to the high school right away. Come to the office. Don't tell anyone where you're going. It's about the Potter kid."_

Carlisle's mind seemed to freeze; why was the Chief at the school about Harry? Was the boy _there_?

"Y-yes, of course! I'll be there as fast as I can!" Hanging up, Carlisle didn't know what to think. Bolting out of his office, slower than he could be going but possibly too fast for a human, he hurried to his car and tore out of the parking lot.

' _What's happened to you now, Harry? Please be safe.'_

"Argh! Why is there a red light, now?!" Huffing impatiently, Carlisle waited for the signal to change and raced to the high school. He pulled into the first empty space he found and made his way brusquely to the main office where Chief Swan was standing outside seemingly very surprised at Carlisle's quick arrival.

"I'm not going to ask how you got here so fast," the Chief said.

"What's happened?" Carlisle asked.

"Phone call came in this afternoon from Mrs Cope, the receptionist here, asking me to come in and meet with an emancipated boy wanting to enrol for school here," he explained. "Said his name was Harry Potter." If Carlisle's heart could still beat, it would have been hammering. "He matches your description, but I'd like you to come and confirm for me that it's really him." Chief Swan eyed Carlisle warily. "You okay, Carlisle? If you'd rather not, I can –"

"N-no!" Carlisle stammered. "No, I'm fine. A bit shocked is all," he admitted, offering Charlie a reassuring smile. "After you then, Chief." He gestured to the door, readied himself, and followed in after.

Sometimes despite knowing what you're about to see when walking into a room, you can't help but still be surprised. This was one of those moments for Carlisle, for sitting in a hard, wooden chair staring with determination at the floor, was none other than Harry Potter. No one spoke. Carlisle _couldn't_ speak. He was so… _relieved_ to see Harry alive and in one piece. He didn't care about the open hostility the boy had shown the last time they met; all Carlisle cared about was that he was _here._

"Carlisle?" Brought out of his swirling emotions, Carlisle remembered that they weren't alone. "Do you confirm this boy's identification as Harry Potter?"

He did. Of course, he did. This was the same boy Carlisle had grown to admire and worked to keep alive. That had certainly not been easy; with such severe injuries, some that would take weeks to heal, it was –

' _Wait…'_

Trying his hardest not to show any emotion on his face, Carlisle looked more closely at Harry, in particular at where Carlisle knew him to have severe injuries.

But there were none.

' _That's impossible.'_

Sitting before him was a perfectly healthy teenager with not a scratch on him. Freshly shaven wearing brand new clothes and a neat haircut, in two days Harry had gone from barely alive to a normal, healthy teenage boy.

"Carlisle? Is this Harry Potter?" Chief Swan asked again, Carlisle detecting a hint of annoyance in the man's question. He had to say yes. How much trouble would Harry be in? Would Charlie arrest him?

Without his vampire sight, Carlisle would have missed the miniscule nod of Harry's head. The message was clear: _I don't care, just tell him._

"Yes," Carlisle murmured. "He is Harry Potter." He looked at the Chief and saw suspicion in his eyes.

"You don't sound very sure of yourself, Carlisle. I thought you told me the kid was in a bad way, but this boy looks like he hasn't had a head cold let alone been on the verge of death." The Chief was right, of course. But Carlisle didn't know the explanation behind that any more than Charlie did. There certainly wasn't an explanation he could offer that wouldn't give away Harry's strange abilities.

 _"Lie."_

It was nothing more than a breath out, but Carlisle heard it as though Harry had shouted the command. He was still looking down at the floor, giving no indication that he had just spoken. So Carlisle lied.

"No, that does appear to be the case, doesn't it?" He said with much more conviction than he felt. "Of course no one has seen him for three days, what's there to say that he hasn't had other medical attention, or simply healed up with adequate bed rest? Besides, I'm sure he's not completely better, his ankle for one is probably still bothering him, is it, Harry?" It was the first direct question he had posed to the boy since he arrived and Carlisle desperately hoped Harry would play along.

Sure enough, as Chief Swan looked at him for a response, Harry gave two short jerks of his head in the affirmative. Only Carlisle noticed him change his position slightly to lessen the weight he was putting through his left foot.

"Right then, boy," Charlie huffed, "start from the beginning. Where have you been since you disappeared from the hospital?"

For a moment Carlisle thought Harry wasn't going to say anything, and that he was just going to continue staring at the floor until he was dragged away to the police station, but as before his worries were unjustified and Harry began to talk.

"I left the hospital –"

"In the middle of the night?" The Chief interrupted.

"Yes. I left and –"

"With your hospital room in a complete mess?"

Harry clenched his fists. "That wasn't –"

"You've had the hospital and the police tirelessly looking for you, you realise?"

The temperature of the room seemed to drop by several degrees as Harry finally looked up from the floor, his green eyes cold and unfeeling.

"If you would like me to tell you what happened, _sir_ , I suggest you stop interrupting me." A chill ran down Carlisle's spine that had nothing to do with the coldness of the room. The Chief met Harry's glare but remained silent.

"As I was saying. The state the room was left in was entirely my fault, and yet it was an accident. I was angry, sir, that I was stuck in hospital. I don't like hospitals. That night I opened my window to get some fresh air, however in my anger I threw them open too hard and they smashed against the wall, hence the broken glass." Harry spoke in a bored voice, but Carlisle could sense the anger just under the surface.

"Wait a second, sorry, but hang on," Charlie interrupted. "That may explain the window, but how did the lights all break?"

"Lights?" Harry asked innocently. "I didn't break any lights. Perhaps a bat flew in and went crazy." It was such a ridiculous claim, and everybody knew that including Harry, but the Chief had no evidence to prove that Harry had done anything. Clearly knowing this, Harry continued before he could be interrupted again.

"Anyway, with glass all over the floor it wasn't surprising when I slipped and cut my hands open. This made me more frustrated, so I left. The dumpster below my window made it all too easy to slip out unnoticed. I walked for a while before I hailed a taxi and went to Seattle."

' _Seattle?'_

Carlisle had no idea where Harry was going with this. Truthfully, he was impressed; while Harry wasn't giving the whole story of what happened in the hospital, none of it was strictly a lie. Him going to Seattle however…

"Why did you go to Seattle?" Charlie asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

"Friends of mine were holidaying there." Now, Carlisle knew, Harry was lying. The way his jaw tightened and his fists clenched in his lap gave him away. Chief Swan hadn't noticed anything, yet.

"I spent a lot of time with them in England, when not staying with my relatives, and came to the States with the intention of moving here after I was officially emancipated. That was one month ago. Through _legal_ routes," Carlisle had to resist smirking at the boy's emphasis, "and correct applications I became an official citizen yesterday."

What Carlisle hadn't noticed before was a pile of documents sitting on the counter of Mrs Cope's desk, which Carlisle _also_ hadn't noticed was vacant of the receptionist. From where he stood he could see all kinds of official citizenship documents that indeed claimed Harry was an official American citizen.

The Chief still wasn't convinced.

"Right, and so, what, they bought you a giant mansion on the edge of town, did they? Rich family? You certainly seem to have a healthy sum of money in your bank, boy."

Harry took a calming breath before answering. Carlisle willed him to not lose his head.

"That money is my inheritance I received after my parents' deaths," he spoke quietly, and yet his voice carried comfortably across the room.

' _Oh, Harry.'_

Carlisle couldn't help the rush of sympathy he experienced. Harry's parents were dead; while Carlisle had thought it possible, it was awful to learn he was right. No child should outlive their parents by so long. Finally Carlisle felt he was beginning to understand a part of Harry's bitterness with the world, and yet there was still so much the boy wasn't saying.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Charlie offered, clearly taken off guard at hearing this news. "Did this happen recently?"

Harry gave the Chief an icy glare.

"Does it matter?" he seethed.

' _Yes,'_ thought Carlisle.

"I suppose not," admitted Chief Swan. "Why not continue living with your relatives back in England? Why move here of all places?"

"I didn't exactly see eye to eye with my aunt and uncle," Harry answered, which Carlisle took to mean 'They weren't like me'.

"As for how I ended up here… that was sort of just luck." Carlisle could see Harry wanted to offer no further information on how he ended up in Forks. He sat unmoving in his chair, waiting for the Chief to speak.

"And what are your intentions for your future?"

"I intend to finish my schooling here – at least this semester, possibly longer – and live as normal and ordinary a life as possible. Is that alright with you?" Harry asked in a manner that clearly suggested he didn't care what the answer was, he was going to live how he wanted.

Charlie sat for a long time with Harry's documents in his hands, going over them one by one. Every now and then he would look up at the boy as though to make sure he hadn't disappeared again, and each time he would find the same dead, green stare watching him.

Carlisle couldn't believe what he had heard; Harry was an orphan – Carlisle suspected not recently – with a huge house and fortune, simply wanting an ordinary life. It was clear there were other dark things in Harry's past which he was battling, and Carlisle suspected it was a battle he was losing. His once bright green eyes were lifeless despite the clear health the boy was in, and his features seemed permanently fixed in a scowl. Carlisle was brought out of his thoughts by the voice of the Chief.

"Everything here does seem to be in order. Would it be possible to get in contact with these friends of yours?"

"I doubt it," Harry answered, most of the anger gone from his voice. "They returned to England yesterday and live in a remote part of the countryside. They don't have a phone, you see."

' _How convenient,'_ Carlisle couldn't help but think.

"Well then," Charlie sighed, "I guess that's all in order for you to enrol in school. Next time you plan on running away, tell someone first." Harry didn't smile at the joke.

"If necessary, I can pay for the damages."

"Sorry?" Charlie was taken aback.

"For the window. And the lights I suppose, if you like," Harry clarified.

"Oh. No, that's alright." What a strange thing for a teenager to offer. "That's fine, isn't it, Carlisle?"

"Of course you don't have to pay, Harry," Carlisle smiled. Again, Harry didn't return the smile. Instead he glared at his former doctor with a burning hatred.

' _Well, nice to see some things haven't changed.'_

Completely oblivious to the tension that was building, Charlie began to speak again.

"There's one thing that still doesn't make sense about all this," he pondered aloud.

' _Only one thing?'_ Carlisle thought sarcastically.

"What happened to the security footage from that night? Someone must have erased it." Chief Swan gave Carlisle a calculating look. "It can only have been someone from the hospital working that night. From what Harry says it wasn't someone covering their tracks, meaning someone wanted to hide how Harry escaped. Who would want to do that, Carlisle?"

"I don't know, Charlie," Carlisle said slowly. Surely he couldn't have worked it out. Could he?

"I think –"

"I did it." Harry's voice called out, effectively cutting off the Chief's accusation. Both adults stared openly at Harry in disbelief. Charlie walked over and hunkered down until he was at eye level with the boy.

" _You_ did it, did you?" He asked in mocking scepticism. "Mind telling me exactly _what_ you did?"

Carlisle was still staring at Harry, not quite believing what was happening. Harry met the Chief's gaze.

"I wiped the camera in my room. I'm good with technology and things," he lied.

"And why did you think it a smart idea to damage hospital property?"

Harry frowned and replied, "I didn't want to make it any easier for people to come after me. It wasn't originally my intention to come back to Forks," he said as though it were obvious. "Too much hostility." As he said this, his eyes flickered quickly to Carlisle still standing near the door. This didn't go unnoticed, as Charlie followed his gaze to stare at the doctor.

"Hostility?" The Chief asked as he stood upright. "From Doctor Cullen?" He looked back at Harry with a deep frown. "Boy, this man has been worried sick about you for three days thinking you were dead. If anyone here's showing hostility, it's you."

"It's alright, Charlie," Carlisle assured. "I admit while he was in my care, Harry took some of my advice as condescending rather than helpful, and I am to blame for that." While not quite true, Carlisle felt that if he had handled the situation better, especially in the forest, Harry would not be so angry with him.

Charlie looked at Carlisle for a while, deep in thought.

"Right then, this is my decision. Parts of your story still bug me, but I'm willing to let that slide on a couple of conditions," he reasoned. "You're going to undergo a full medical check with Doctor Cullen before you start school. You may _look_ fine but you were in hospital three days ago and I'm sure you would still be there if you hadn't run off."

Carlisle watched as Harry's jaw clenched in anger; these were not conditions he wanted.

"My other condition," Charlie continued, either not noticing or simply ignoring Harry's silent fuming, "is that twice a week you check in with either myself or Doctor Cullen."

"No." Harry said bluntly.

"If you don't want me to take you down to the station right now for further questioning and punishment, you'll agree to these conditions, is that understood?" Chief Swan glared back at Harry, whose eyes were blazing in fury. Carlisle was worried Harry might snap.

"Charlie, don't you think –?"

"You care about the boy's wellbeing, don't you, Carlisle?" Charlie cut him off in annoyance.

"Of course," Carlisle said. "Very much." He refused to look at Harry, but he could see that the boy's features had just formed into a frown of deep confusion.

"Then this is what's best for him," Charlie argued, turning his attention back to Harry. "You will be given contact details for the both of us, and we will have yours. You will meet in person with each of us once a week, offer your assistance around the office and keep us up to date with your situation. You may be legally responsible for yourself now, boy, but that's new for you and this isn't England. You'll need help and advice settling in to the American way of life. Carlisle?" He turned to address the doctor. "Are you happy to do this?"

Carlisle wasn't sure what to think. On one hand he thought it was brilliant; he would be able to see Harry once a week, perhaps try and build a level of trust and help with whatever he's facing. On the other hand, Carlisle knew this would greatly upset Harry. The boy was still fuming, glaring daggers into the Police Chief's back, as though wishing he could cut off the man's breath. He wanted freedom, and Charlie was making sure he didn't have it.

Carlisle couldn't argue with the Chief; this was best for Harry. Wasn't it? Doesn't everybody need someone to share their fears with? Someone to turn to when there isn't anybody else? That was Harry's problem, Carlisle knew, that he felt he had no one to talk to, no one who would understand what he was going through. Perhaps this is what Carlisle needed to convince Harry that he could be that someone.

"I am," he confirmed. He looked at Harry who had buried his head in his hands at the doctor's words; his sentence had been delivered.

"Fine!" He shouted, standing up. "Fine, okay, whatever. I'll do it. Fantastic. Are we done now?" As Harry dug his hands deep in to his pockets, Carlisle could see him grasp something inside. Whatever it was seemed to help calm him down.

"We are," said the Chief. "I'll stay here and finalise this with the school so as you can start tomorrow. Carlisle, sorry to have taken up your afternoon."

"Not at all, Charlie," Carlisle assured. Glancing at the clock above the desk, he saw it was already four o'clock. No doubt his children will have heard everything that had been said in the office. He hoped they had enough sense to leave before he came outside.

"Harry," Carlisle turned back to the boy, who was still standing in defeat, "can I offer you a lift home? We could get a start on that medical examination Chief Swan recommended." It was probably selfish what he was doing, but Carlisle knew that Harry couldn't say no to his offer in front of Charlie without getting into another argument. As Carlisle knew he would, Harry gave a curt nod and began gathering his things together, still silently fuming. He walked through the door, without as much as a glance at either adult, to wait outside.

"You'll keep an eye on that boy, won't you, Carlisle?" Charlie spoke without turning around, busy signing paperwork.

"Of course, Charlie," Carlisle assured. The Chief didn't respond for a while. Carlisle got the sense he was stalling, pretending to read something.

"I have a feeling he's going to keep us pretty occupied for a while," he finally admitted. Carlisle smiled.

"Yes, I quite agree. Goodbye, Charlie." Carlisle opened the door to leave.

"See you."

Closing the door to the office, Carlisle looked around but couldn't see Harry anywhere.

"Why do you do this, Harry?"He muttered to himself.

Coming around the corner, still looking out for Harry, Carlisle found the boy leaning against the black Mercedes, the only car remaining in the lot other than Charlie's cruiser. He was facing the other way, and so couldn't see Carlisle silently walking over at human pace.

"I assume this is yours," Harry said, just as Carlisle got within ten paces of the car. He hadn't made a sound.

"How did you know I was there?" He couldn't help but ask.

Harry didn't respond. Carlisle tried a different line of conversation.

"Why did you tell Chief Swan that you wiped the security tapes?" It had been bothering Carlisle since Harry had taken the blame away from him. He knew – and he was sure Harry did too – that it was because of this Harry had been dealt his weekly punishment.

"Why did _you_ wipe them?" Harry retorted, still not turning to face his former doctor.

"I watched them myself," he said simply. "I deleted them for your protection."

Harry seemed to ponder this a while. Finally he turned around, his eyes no longer blazing in anger but rather returned to their dull, lifeless stare.

"Then I suppose I should thank you. I didn't know hospital rooms were taped." While Carlisle was sure the thanks was genuine, he was still uncomfortable with the cold voice with which it was given. "I told Chief Swan that I wiped the recording because your job means a lot more to you than his opinion does to me."

Again, Harry spoke with a cold and unfeeling voice that gave Carlisle chills. Yet what he had said showed he had kindness in him, it was just a matter of finding the warmth to go with it. How Carlisle was going to do that he had no idea.

He unlocked the car and gestured for Harry to get in. After a few seconds, he did, and Carlisle slid into the driver's seat. He pulled out onto the street and began to head for the address he had read on Harry's documentation. If Carlisle's memory served him well, which of course it did, then the Chief was right: Harry's new house was enormous.

Sitting in Harry's lap was the pile of personal documents identifying him as an American citizen. While all the files were very well made, Carlisle could tell they were fake – he had good experience with counterfeit documents. Sitting on the top of the pile in Harry's lap, was an American driver's license.

"I didn't know you drove," Carlisle said conversationally.

"Mm," Harry replied, not giving away any information.

"They're very well done, if you don't mind me saying," he told Harry, watching the boy frown out of the corner of his eye. "I've never seen such convincing forgeries that weren't my own." Carlisle could hear Harry's teeth grind together in frustration.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, _sir,_ " Harry replied through gritted teeth. "But I guess fake humans need fake ID, too." He spoke with venom, and the words did sting Carlisle. He sighed. Carlisle wanted to get on Harry's good side; all this was achieving was irritating him into rudeness.

"Look, Harry, you realise I'm not actually going to give you a medical examination, don't you?" Carlisle told him, his voice softer. Harry frowned again and looked at him.

"You're not?" he asked, the edge gone from his voice. Carlisle simply shook his head. "Why not?"

"I can see for myself that you're physically perfectly healthy. I have absolutely no idea how you managed that after you were so near death two days ago, but it happened. I can make up some results and send them to Chief Swan in the morning." While Carlisle felt he had done enough lying over the past few days, what could one more faked report do? "Besides," he added, "I'm sure you'd appreciate the rest before your first day of American school tomorrow."

Harry didn't respond for a while, but when he did it was the most genuine he had sounded all day.

"Thanks," he said simply.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, and while it was far from companionable, there was undoubtedly less tension between the two men. When they arrived at the house, Harry was quick to jump out and head for the front door. Having decided in the earlier silence what he wanted to say, Carlisle got out as well and called out from the car.

"Harry," the boy stopped but didn't turn around. "I'd like it if you came to my office tomorrow after school. I won't get you to stay long, but I'd be interested in hearing how your first day goes."

Clenching his fist around the object in his pocket again, Harry called out a hasty "Fine," and trudged into the house. Sighing, Carlisle got back into his car and began the drive home, brainstorming how he could earn the boy's trust.


	21. Chapter 20

Several strange things occurred in Bella's house that morning. The first was that she actually woke up before her alarm had gone off, something she hadn't done in several years. The second oddity came in the form of her father sitting at the breakfast table drinking his morning coffee, who usually by this time was out the door to the station. Setting herself down with her usual boring bowl of cereal, the last and by far the most out of place incident occurred when Charlie opened his mouth to voluntarily start a conversation.

"So, Bells. How's the new school going?" He asked awkwardly.

Bella was fully aware how odd her relationship with her father was. While they both cared for each other very much, there was rarely a time when they just sat and talked. She knew that this question that her father had just asked her would be considered perfectly normal and mundane in your typical family, but Bella couldn't help but feel that something strange must be happening for Charlie to ask such a normal question.

"Oh, it's, uh, fine," she mumbled to her bowl of cereal. Curious as to what had encouraged the conversation starter, but equally hopeful that she had just provided the conversation closer, Bella simply shovelled more cereal into her mouth and chewed silently.

"Good. That's good," Charlie murmured. "Made any new friends yet?"

What had gotten into him this morning?

"Well, I've met a few people so far," Bella replied politely. "A couple I remember from before, I think." It had been 4 years since she'd been in Forks and many more than that since schooling here, she could hardly be expected to remember everyone her age.

"Good. That's good," Charlie gave the same response as before, indicating that he wasn't really concentrating on what was being said, but rather on what he was actually wanting to say.

"The reason I ask, Bella –" he started.

' _Ah,'_ Bella thought, _'so there_ is _a reason behind this conversation.'_

"– is because I know there's another new kid starting there today," Charlie explained with less awkwardness this time having gotten to the crux of the matter. "Just moved here from England."

Bella stayed silent. An uncomfortable feeling was brewing in her stomach that had nothing to do with the slightly stale cereal now digesting inside.

"Name's Harry. Kid's had a tough time of late and isn't used to the American way of life yet. Help him out, won't you?" Charlie's eyes rested hopefully on his daughter.

Ever since the boy – Harry, she now knew him to be called – had run from her in the shops two days ago, Bella had wondered whether she should tell Charlie about him. What normal, _innocent_ person runs at the mention of the police? Though you wouldn't think that a criminal would be interested in registering at the local high school. Whatever was wrong with the nervous teenager, Bella figured it wouldn't help her work it out by getting her father on his case. The last thing the guy probably needed was the police breathing down his neck. So Bella had said nothing to her father about the strange foreign boy who didn't make sense. Now, it seemed, Charlie wanted her to befriend him anyway. If his attitude two days ago was anything to go by, Bella felt that it was going to be a much more difficult task than her father might expect.

"Sure, Charlie."

* * *

Bella didn't see any sign of Harry all morning. In fact, it wasn't until lunch time that she even heard his name mentioned.

"Have you guys seen that new guy yet? Harry?" Jessica asked the group. Bella had sat with the same group since her first day, and mostly enjoyed the company. She usually stayed silent and just tuned in and out of the conversations around her. This was one conversation she couldn't help but listen in on.

"Yeah, we have," said Ben, indicating to himself and Eric. "He was in our Trigonometry class this morning. Strange dude. Refused to introduce himself to the class, just stared at Mr Varner until he let him sit down."

"He sat next to me in English," Angela added, "and didn't really say anything. He looked really annoyed though. Kind of standoffish. Maybe he's just lonely."

"Just some foreign recluse more like." Eric scoffed. "Hardly going out of his way to make friends, is he? Death-staring everyone he comes across." Ben nodded his head in agreement.

"Well I think he's dreamy," Jessica announced. "And the English accent is _so_ hot." As she said this, her eyes glazed over and she sighed.

 _'Oh brother,'_ thought Bella.

Bella chanced a sideways glance over at the Cullen table and, as usual, saw Edward staring at her again. The whole family seemed to be more on edge than usual though; each of them looked rather concerned about something, and Rosalie looked murderous, staring at the entrance to the cafeteria as though waiting for her mortal enemy to walk through. Following the ice queen's gaze, Bella saw what was making her glare.

Harry had just walked into the cafeteria, and as he did, a brief silence fell on the room. As quickly as it had stopped, the chatter rose up again, but Harry didn't move from his spot. Instead, Bella noticed he was staring with equal hatred and anger at Rosalie and the rest of the Cullens. Turning sharply on his heel, Harry stormed to the door leading to the outside seating area, today deserted due to the continuing rain. Bella watched as he pulled his hood up and sat down at one of the tables, slowly getting wetter.

Bella turned back to her group to see them all staring after Harry as well.

"What was _that_ about?" Mike asked, as startled as the rest of them by the new student's furious escape. They all shook their heads in response. No one could explain Harry's actions.

Charlie's words echoed in Bella's head. If she was being honest with herself, it seemed unlikely that Harry would appreciate Bella coming to talk to him. Nevertheless she had promised Charlie, and so she found herself standing and picking up her tray.

"Bella, where are you going?" Angela asked. "We've got Biology next, remember?" The others were looking at her too.

"I know, I won't miss it, don't worry. I'll see you there." Bella walked to the trash to dispose of her rubbish and return her tray and headed towards the door Harry had gone through. As she walked she peeked at the Cullens again and saw them all deep in conversation, all except Edward, who instead of staring at Bella, was now staring out the window at the dark figure hunched over one of the picnic tables.

Bella pushed open the glass door and put up her own hood as she stepped out into the freezing rain. On a warm, sunny day, Bella could see how this would be a very pleasant place to sit with the distant forest providing a peaceful backdrop. On a day like today, however, it was cold, wet, and miserable. Bella sloshed over to Harry, his dark hoodie made even darker by the rain that now drenched him. She didn't sit.

"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here much longer," she called. Harry didn't turn around and didn't respond. Bella was just about to say something else when Harry responded.

"Who are they?" He demanded, his voice shaking with anger, and something else. Was it _fear_?

"They're the Cullens," Bella stated. Noticing the way Harry's shoulders tensed at the name, she added, "Why? Do you know them?" Did he perhaps know something about them? About why they acted so differently from anybody else?

"I know that anyone called Cullen is not to be trusted." He didn't elaborate. He just kept staring at the one spot on the table in front of him, the rain continuing to drip from his hood. Bella walked around and sat across from him, getting her first good look at him since their first meeting. He looked much healthier; clean shaven and sporting a new haircut, Harry looked years younger than he had just two days ago. Now Bella could clearly see in front of her the lonely boy no older than she was herself.

Bella didn't understand how someone new to Forks could have such a deep hatred of the Cullens. From Bella's understanding the family had moved to Forks roughly two years earlier, the father taking up a post at the hospital and the kids moving into the local high school. As far as she was aware and from what she had seen at school, they kept to themselves and didn't associate with anyone who wasn't family. So how could this guy from the other side of the world know and despise such a reclusive group of people?

Maybe Harry had met one of them before starting at the school. Although their presence seemed to come as a nasty shock to him, suggesting he didn't know there were any Cullens at the school. That could only mean he'd met one of the two parents. Bella didn't know much about Mrs Cullen and she only knew that the father was a doctor at the hospital. Perhaps he'd needed to undergo a medical examination before starting at school here? If fact, the more Bella thought on it, Harry hadn't looked very well at all when they had first met. He was so pale and nervous, jumping at anything, all just after…

' _No. Surely.'_

"It was _you_." Bella whispered on a breath. For she had worked it out now, all of it. Why Harry had been so uneasy at the grocery store, why he had seemed so ill, why _now_ he was terrified of anything to do with the word Cullen.

Harry was the boy who ran away from Forks Hospital, and Bella would bet her life that the Cullen patriarch had been his doctor.

For the first time since she had joined him, Harry lifted his eyes up from the table. Bella could see no light or warmth in those eyes. Lifeless orbs of green glared at her from behind the round glasses which were spattered with rain. Past the anger and rage that was pushed to the surface, Bella saw sadness. Pain and suffering.

"You're the one they were all looking for. Aren't you." It wasn't a question. Bella knew the truth now.

"Oh, fantastic," Harry growled, "everyone's talking about how I'm some runaway delinquent, is that it?" He pushed himself up from the table, flinging drops of water onto Bella. "I haven't got time for this." He started to make his way back to the cafeteria.

"Wait!" Bella cried, relieved when he stopped and turned to face her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I don't think people know, actually," she added in a hope to alleviate some of his anger. "I'm sorry I mentioned it. My dad told me to look out for you, but I'm doing this all wrong." This was another bad thing to say.

"Oh he did, did he?" Harry scoffed. "Sending you to spy on me when he can't watch me, is that it? Well you can tell him that I don't appreciate my life being controlled. I certainly don't need his _silly_ daughter watching over me," he finished with a sneer, the first facial expression she had seen him make that properly reached his eyes.

"Fine," Bella snapped back. If he didn't want her help, then so be it. "Be like that. Just remember," she called to his now retreating form, "shutting everyone out like this won't get you friends for when the world crashes around you." And without giving him another look she stormed past him into the warmth and dry of the cafeteria. Just as the door was closing she thought she heard a broken voice behind her.

"Too late."

* * *

Harry's day could not be going slower. All day people had been staring at him, some even daring to try and talk to him. All of it was getting on his nerves. Not that Harry wasn't used to being stared at wherever he went at school. But still, he had hoped that a different continent might have given him enough space from all that nonsense. No such luck.

Walking through the hallways to his next class, Biology with a Mr Banner, Harry was freezing. His jumper was soaked and he himself was sodden all the way through. But even if he had known how to dry his clothes he wouldn't. The previous night he had made a pact with himself, and he wasn't about to break it less than 24 hours later.

Finally he found the right room a few minutes after the bell had rung, not that Harry cared. He handed in his attendance slip to the teacher, who thankfully didn't try to make him introduce himself to the class, and gathered his new syllabus book. When he turned to look at the class for the first time, he inhaled sharply and stiffened.

Staring back at him from the table behind the only empty chair in the room, was one of those _damn_ Cullens. At lunch, Harry had been fuming at the doctor who just happened to forget to mention that there were five more _things_ like him at the school. Everyone in that cafeteria had been lucky he hadn't broken his personal pact then and there and let himself loose on them. Now he had to deal with one of them in his class? Having no other option available, Harry ignored Cullen and sat in his chair firmly facing forwards. He only vaguely registered the smiling face of the boy beside him.

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "I'm Mike. You're Harry, right?" The boy, Mike, clearly couldn't see the scowl that was glued on his new partner's face. Harry made it more obvious by turning to look at him while he grunted in response. Unfortunately, Mike took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

"So what brings your family to Forks? Seems like a strange place to come from England."

' _Well I didn't choose to come here,'_ Harry replied in his head. Out loud he said nothing, hoping that if he just ignored Mike's questioning he too would turn to the front and try to listen to the lesson; Harry had no idea what Mr Banner was talking about. Stupid Muggle school.

"What was your school Biology like in England?" This kid was persistent. Maybe if Harry just answered one question he'd stop.

"Like this, I guess." Harry of course had never studied Biology in his life and was quickly realising how much of a setback that was going to be.

Again to Harry's misfortune, Mike wasn't dissuaded by his short answer.

"So have you done the stages of mitosis before?"

' _What the hell is a mitosis?'_

"No, actually. I haven't." Maybe he was in over his head here. What did he know about normal science? He could still drop out and just leave.

"Mr Potter," Mr Banner called from the front of the room. Harry flushed. "I understand being new you must be eager to make new friends, but might I suggest you do that in your own time rather than mine?" Everyone was staring at him now.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Harry refused to look at Mike for the rest of the class.

Finally the class came to an end, Harry no closer to understanding anything about Biology. He had almost forgotten about what was sitting behind him, only remembering when he heard the scrape of the chair and soft footsteps approaching. Gathering his things as quickly as possible, Harry ran for the open door leaving poor Mike looking very confused.

A headache pounding at his temples, Harry ditched his last class – gym – by getting permission from the nurse at the sick bay to go home. Once he walked out the main entrance, he let out a huge sigh and began the long walk home. Of course, he could have just apparated and he'd be home in a second but that would go against his promise. Instead, he walked through the quiet streets, thinking about how best to address his education problem. He should have expected it, really, having come from seven years of very different schooling it was always going to be a struggle to suddenly jump back into his old world. Harry hadn't had normal school subjects like Mathematics and Science since he was 10 years old. It was quite a leap to suddenly go to high school level study.

As Harry walked past the hospital, he was very aware that the previous day Doctor Cullen had told him to come to the hospital and speak to him about his day. Despite his awareness of this, Harry walked past without so much as a sideways glance, not feeling the least bit guilty. He kept on walking to his own street and his own giant house which was now, thankfully, fully stocked with food. Unlocking his front door with the key he had found the day before, Harry dropped his bag just inside and emptied his pockets onto the coffee table before going to the fridge to fix himself some proper lunch.

As he sat eating his salad sandwich, Harry thought about his day. A part of him wished he had been nicer to some of the other students who had made an effort with him, but he knew why he hadn't. Harry knew now that the only sure way to have your heart broken is to make friends you can lose. Through distance he could protect himself. Get swept up in friendships and he would be opening himself up to more heartache. Admittedly he could have handled some of it better, especially his argument with Bella, but then he remembered how the Chief had put her up to it in the first place. If it had been up to her, Bella probably wouldn't have bothered trying to befriend him. She was just a pawn of her father, his eyes in the field keeping watch over the prisoner.

Harry cleaned away his mess and went out to the living room to flop on the sofa. His new owl – she really needed a name – slept on the back of a chair. He would need to find a proper perch for her. Just as he was achieving extreme comfort, there was a knock on the front door. Harry frowned. There were only two people who knew his address, and he wouldn't be happy to see either of them at the door. School had only just officially finished, so perhaps if he ignored them they might go away thinking he wasn't home yet.

 _*Knock knock*_

Sighing, Harry stood up and reluctantly went to open the door. Not bothering with a greeting, Harry turned and went straight back to his sofa, leaving the doctor to close the door after himself.

"Hello, Harry," Doctor Cullen said politely. He didn't sit. "There's an owl in your living room," he added in confusion.

"Mm," grunted Harry in response. Neither man spoke for a time. Still the doctor stood there. "You've got some nerve, showing your face here," Harry muttered darkly, refusing to look over at his guest.

"I heard you pass the hospital earlier. I was disappointed that you were leaving school early, but more disappointed that you did not come and see me like I had asked." Harry could actually hear the disappointment in the doctor's voice. It was quite amazing how good at acting it had become. "I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt and come and see you myself to make sure you weren't unwell." The tone of voice told Harry that Doctor Cullen had known perfectly well that he would find nothing wrong, and that he knew Harry was just disobeying orders.

"So, how was your day at school?"

Harry turned to stare. "Seriously?" He asked, stunned. "We're seriously doing this?" Harry was trying to keep his anger in check, but he couldn't help the bitterness that laced his words. The doctor didn't respond. Instead he just stood there waiting for an answer to his question. Harry's anger bubbled over.

"Alright then, if you have to know, my day was rubbish all thanks to you and your secret little _family_ that no one bothered to tell me about!" Harry seethed. "Why would you not tell me about that? Surely that should be high on the list of what to tell me, even just a little 'Hey Harry, by the way, there's another five _things_ like me at your school, just a heads up so you don't freak out and blow something up', but _nooo_ let's leave it for me to find out on my own!" Harry was raving now. Finally he had someone to unleash his rage on.

"Harry, I'm sorry," again he managed to make this sound genuine, "I should have told you, but I was worried that you might not go to school at all if you had known. I had told them to leave you alone," the doctor added in what he obviously hoped was a calming manner. How wrong he was.

"There it is again!" Harry cried, punching his fist into the back of the sofa. "I am SICK of people controlling my life and thinking they know what's best for me! 'Cause I've got a newsflash for you, Doctor, you DON'T! No one does except me! I have had every aspect of my life controlled and decided for me since I was one, and I don't need the Chief of Police, his daughter, or an army of dark creatures TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!" Harry's head was pounding, his headache from earlier having built in strength. All he could hear was the blood pounding painfully in his temple, and so it was with difficulty that he heard the response to his outburst.

"I'm sorry I can't take back what's happened to you before, but let me help you _now_ ," Doctor Cullen pleaded. Harry just scoffed.

"What are you, my psychiatrist?"

"Well, you are lying on a sofa," the doctor reasoned.

"Oho!" Harry cried. "So it makes jokes, too?"

The doctor sighed. "Harry, please. I can see that there are things controlling you beyond what you say about myself and the Chief. There are things from your past that are still troubling you. I wish to help you, and perhaps my… _situation_ could allow me to understand better than most what you have been through."

"You could never understand," Harry muttered quietly. "No one could. Anyone who might have understood is dead or as good as." His voice shook but this time it wasn't with anger. He rolled away from Doctor Cullen so he was facing into the sofa.

"I am sorry you feel that way, but remember," the doctor had come closer now, Harry could hear his voice from just beside the sofa, "my offer will always stand. You shouldn't have to face this alone."

 _You don't have to face everything alone, Harry._

"That's what they always said," he whispered, more to himself than anybody else.

"Who always said, Harry?"

Hadn't he heard those words thousands of times before? Right before marching head first into any crisis, those words had been spoken to him, and hearing them again now almost brought about his undoing. _Almost._

"No one important," he replied coldly, pushing himself upright. "Not anymore." Doctor Cullen had been kneeling beside the sofa, but stood once more as Harry rose from his inferior position. "I've moved on, Doctor, and trying to make me think about my past will only make me angry. You've seen what happens when I get angry. Do you want that directed at you?" Harry's voice was strong once more. He had just about had enough of the doctor's meddling.

"You won't hurt me, Harry," Doctor Cullen said with a confident smile that made Harry's blood boil.

"Oh yeah?" Harry stood at his full height, staring down the other man despite being several inches shorter. "You have no idea what I'm capable of; I could bring you unimaginable pain, freeze your whole body to never move again. I could burn you to cinders and destroy the ashes just as easily. All it would take is one thought." He could feel the fire burning inside him, his eyes blazing at the man before him. The _vampire._

Instead of backing down as Harry had planned, the doctor simply returned Harry's steady gaze and said, "I have no doubt that you could do those things to me, Harry, but I stand by what I said: You will not hurt me."

The two men stared at each other for a long time. At last Harry's shoulders sagged.

"Why are you so confident?"

The doctor didn't answer right away. He stepped back and made his way over to the window again to look outside. The rain had finally stopped.

"Because, Harry, I know that you are inherently a good person."

Was he a good person? Harry wasn't so sure. All of a sudden, as though his conscience was determined to argue with the doctor, Harry's memories were unleashed; Malfoy's rattling breath as he lay in his own blood on the bathroom floor, all the unforgivable curses he performed to reach his goal, and just recently, hadn't he abandoned his friends condemning them to death? How could someone with a past riddled with evil and wrongdoings be _good_?

"You know nothing of me and my life," Harry said bitterly. "I've done terrible things. Some you could never imagine. What makes you say that I'm good?" Harry fixed a sneer to his face, but he knew it was disguising his true emotions. He _needed_ to be told, for he had forgotten himself.

When Doctor Cullen spoke, he spoke slowly, "If I have learned anything in my life, it is that evil and remorse can never truly coexist. You are not a bad person, Harry. You are a very good person to whom bad things have happened. Remember that." The last words were pleading.

Could it be that simple? Was this pain and loss he was feeling enough to eradicate everything he had done? Harry didn't understand. It sounded very similar to a lesson that another wizened old man had once tried to teach him. If it were true, then why did he still feel so lost?

Harry didn't respond to the doctor's words of comfort. He just slumped back down onto the sofa behind him and stared dejectedly at the floor.

"I was very sorry to hear about your parents." There he was again, voice filled with genuine emotion that Harry just couldn't understand.

"Yeah, well, thanks, but I don't need your pity," Harry retorted, trying to inject some annoyance back into his words. But Harry was finding it difficult to snipe. The doctor had achieved what he had wanted; Harry's past was flooding his system. And it hurt. He wanted to shut it out like he had before, but the more he fought it, the harder it pushed back. Maybe that was why he found himself still talking, staring into nothing.

"I was only one. A long time ago," he admitted, his voice dying to a whisper. For the first time since his arrival, Doctor Cullen sat down in the armchair beside the sofa. Harry wasn't paying attention though. His thoughts were miles away, back in a cottage of a small village sixteen years ago.

"May I ask how?" His voice was soft, but it carried across to Harry easily.

"Hm? Murdered," Harry said simply. "My dad…then Mum." And he could see it. The nightmare that had haunted his childhood playing in front of him. "Still…long time ago." He could hear his mother scream as the bright green light enveloped his vision. "Moved on." A high pitched and cruel laughter filled his ears.

" _Stop it,_ " he cursed himself, " _just stop it._ "

He clutched at his head, desperate to get a grip back on the current situation. He wasn't in Godric's Hollow. He was in Forks, in America, he was 17 years old, and there was a vampire in the room. Slowly, his breathing calmed and he was able to think again. He wiped his eyes on his hands, but they were dry.

"Do you have any friends back home, Harry?" Almost jumping out of his skin, Harry looked at the doctor. He had almost forgotten he was there. Shutting off his mind from the pain once more, Harry was finally able to fuel his anger again.

"Shut up," he growled, "Doctor Cullen, please, shut up." Harry had had enough of this therapy session. "I think it would be best if you left."

At first Cullen looked as though he was going to argue that he should stay, but perhaps it was the tone in Harry's voice or the look on his face that made the doctor keep his thoughts to himself.

"Of course," he said simply. "I shall leave you to rest for tomorrow. If you need anything you can always find me at the hospital," he added in a hopeful tone.

"Mm, I'm sure I won't." Harry stood up and strode to the front door, holding it open for his guest to leave. "Bye."

Ignoring the rudeness of the dismissal, the doctor walked leisurely to the door but stopped just short of the front porch.

"You know, you really shouldn't leave things like that lying around," he said, gesturing towards the coffee table on which lay the Elder Wand. Harry turned to look at it, feeling the anger rise once more.

"Thanks for the advice," and he shut the door right on the doctor's heel.

Walking slowly back into the living room, Harry picked up the Elder Wand and looked at it in disgust.

"Not that it matters anyway. I swore: no more magic."


	22. Chapter 21

Sitting in his home office, Carlisle held the phone to his ear.

" _Carlisle, how's things?"_ Carlisle could hear the tiredness in the Chief's voice through the phone.

"All's well, Charlie," he replied. "I hope things are well at your end?"

Charlie scoffed, " _Still sorting out things, trying to close down all the investigations about Harry. Things should start ticking slowly again tomorrow."_

Harry, yes. The reason for Carlisle's call.

"Harry is actually the reason I am phoning, Charlie," Carlisle began cautiously. "I am concerned about the boy." He heard Charlie sigh.

" _What's happened to him this time?"_

Carlisle thought for a moment; he had to put this delicately or else Charlie could become very angry towards Harry.

"After completing his medical examination yesterday evening, I had asked Harry if he would come by to my office this afternoon to tell me about his first day. He, however, had different plans."

Silence.

" _He didn't turn up, did he?"_ It was hardly a question.

"No," Carlisle admitted. "He did not." He could hear Charlie grumbling incoherently though the phone. "I went to see him instead," Carlisle added in the hope of preventing an outburst.

" _And? How is he?"_

' _How to put this,'_ Carlisle pondered.

"Well," he began, "not too well honestly. Harry wasn't very happy at all. He feels as though we are controlling his life far too much."

" _He's a child, for God's sake, of course people are trying to control his life,"_ Charlie retorted. " _He's a seventeen year old kid in a new country with no relatives to look out for him. We're the best he's got. Kid's got to realise that."_

' _If only it were that simple,'_ Carlisle thought. He had already decided that he couldn't tell Charlie about what Harry had accidentally let slip to him that afternoon, for Carlisle had realised it had been accidental. Having been caught in a moment of raw emotion, Harry had unwillingly revealed some deeply troubling pieces from his past, things that Carlisle couldn't have imagined. The calm emptiness in his voice as he spoke of his parents' murder… Carlisle shivered remembering.

"I agree, Charlie," he finally answered. "I only hope that someday Harry will too."

" _I'm going to ask the boy to come see me at the end of the week. With any luck he'll turn up, but I think I can guess what will really happen."_

"I hope you're wrong, Charlie," Carlisle admitted.

"So do I. See you." Ending the call, Carlisle relaxed back into his home office chair, releasing the tension he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. He hadn't yet spoken to anyone about what Harry had said to him, though he knew that Edward would have the full story by now.

Carlisle was at a complete loss as to how to help the boy. As terrible as it sounded, Carlisle wished that Harry's only problem was that his parents were dead. But Carlisle knew that that was not what was bothering Harry now. When he was first at the hospital, while obviously a boy who had suffered great losses, Harry was happy. There had been a light in his young eyes, scared of his past but excited for the future. The Harry that was here now was a different man; darkness and hopelessness was all Carlisle saw in his eyes which had aged with the loss of their brightness. Yes, Harry was a young man with a dark and troubled past, but something he had seen or heard since escaping the hospital had shaken what little resolve he'd had. Only an empty shell remained, one whose surface Carlisle was only just beginning to scrape.

Carlisle was broken out of his thinking by a calm knocking on his office door.

"Come in, Alice," he called.

Alice wandered over and sat herself down in one of the other chairs by Carlisle's desk. She watched her father carefully for a while.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

Carlisle blinked.

"Whatever for?"

"I can't _see_ anything! I feel useless," she cried. "Just when we need my gift more than ever, it's gone. I hate not knowing, Carlisle." Alice stared at Carlisle mournfully, the tears she could not shed sparkling in her eyes.

"Oh, Alice," Carlisle stood up from his chair and went over to comfort his daughter. "No one here is upset with you or blaming you for anything. We know that whatever Harry is means that vampire gifts are useless," he soothed. "We've become reliant on you and Edward, especially. Perhaps it's time we learned to operate without them."

"I don't understand it, Carlisle. I can't see what will happen, not even possibilities. All I get is this… _feeling._ I know that Harry is important to this family, to you and Edward in particular. I get these strong feelings about the three of you, but whether it's positive or negative I don't know. All I know is that the three of you will greatly influence each other's lives." Neither of them spoke after this extraordinary pronouncement. Carlisle watched Alice, believing what she said was true. He had felt it himself; there was a connection between himself and Harry that he knew would never fade. Whether that link was leading them to friendship or destruction, only time would tell.

"I see. And you can't see anything further in the future, several years ahead?" How long did people like Harry live for?

Alice only shook her head sadly.

"So it would appear Harry will be around for a while," Carlisle mused.

"Or that his being here brings this family's downfall," Alice murmured. Neither of them wanted to think of that as a possibility.

"All we can do is take things one day at a time. I am hopeful that Harry will gradually find he can trust those of us looking out for him. He has a darkened past, Alice, such terrible things have happened to him. He needs friends. A family." Harry was hurting. Carlisle wanted to be the one to ease that hurt, the loneliness that Harry was feeling. Carlisle understood loneliness, and knowing Harry was experiencing it was what hurt Carlisle the most.

"You'll be there for him, Carlisle, just like you're here for all of us." Alice gave Carlisle a warm embrace, hoping her father wouldn't dwell on his own dark history. "Just be there for him. No one can resist the fatherly love of Carlisle Cullen."

Carlisle smiled at his daughter and returned the hug. "Let's hope Harry isn't the exception to the rule."

* * *

The gravel crunched under her feet as Bella made her way across the parking lot to her Chevy. It was Friday afternoon, the end of her and Harry's first week at Forks High, and Bella was relieved that it was finally the weekend. There was little work ahead of her, as half her classes were covering content she had already studied in Phoenix. She was looking forward to a nice, quiet weekend spent at home reading. Such was Bella's favourite way to spend her time.

Privately, Bella was also thankful that she didn't have to worry about befriending Harry for two whole days. While she knew how terrible that sounded, it was an exhausting, fruitless task. It did not seem to matter how Bella approached him, whether it be to join him at lunch or offer a passing 'Hello' in the corridors, Harry remained just as stubborn as always. The best she had gotten from him was a grumbled 'Hi' once, but Bella knew that he only relented because Mr Varner had been standing right beside him.

As far as Bella could tell, no one else in the school had made any attempt to befriend the boy either. Nobody had approached him at lunchtime to sit with him, and her friends told her that no one spoke to him in any of his classes. Even Mike had given up on getting to know him in Biology. Harry was watched from afar, slowly fading into the background already, a feat which should have been impossible in a school like Forks. The only people who paid him any attention were Bella and the Cullens.

Bella had come no closer to finding out anything more about Harry and his relationship with the strange family. They never spoke, but rather seemed to communicate through hateful glares sent across the cafeteria or classroom. At least Harry and Rosalie did. The other four watched Harry with something more like caution, as though they weren't entirely sure what to make of him.

Bella sighed. There was nothing more she could do for now. Maybe over the weekend she could think of some better ways to approach the situation, though what that could be Bella had no initial inspiration. She rolled down her window and put the key in the ignition.

"Bella."

She shrieked. Jumping in surprise, Bella accidentally slammed her hands on the steering wheel, blasting her horn through the parking lot.

"Jesus Christ!" She turned to berate the person who had appeared from nowhere at her driver's window, and almost jumped again when she saw the bespectacled English boy staring at her strangely. Was he laughing at her?

"Harry, don't do that, please!" Getting her breathing under control, she quickly added, "What's up?" She didn't want to get angry and make him leave, not when this was the first time he had willingly approached anyone all week. She was also very aware that every set of eyes in the parking lot was on her car.

Harry didn't speak for a long time. He simply frowned and chewed his lip, as though unsure of what it was he wanted to say. Just as Bella was about to ask him if he was alright, he spoke.

"I was actually hoping to ask a favour," he said very slowly. He spoke with the same lack of emotion he had the other day. It still gave Bella chills.

"Sure, Harry. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if, perhaps – if you weren't too busy, that is – whether you might possibly consider thinking about maybe, um, helpingmewithschoolwork." After stumbling around slowly, he finished at such a speed that Bella had no idea what he had said.

"If I could what, sorry?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you could help me with school work," he repeated calmly, his face flushing.

Bella knew Harry had been struggling. In Biology he always seemed to be several paces behind the rest of the class, and he hadn't been able to answer any of Mr Banner's questions when he was called on in class. Bella had considered offering to help, but hadn't quite built up the nerve to do so; she figured Harry wouldn't be too happy knowing someone else had noticed his trouble.

This could also be Bella's best chance at getting to know Harry properly. Perhaps away from school in a quieter environment he would be happier and more willing to make friends. Maybe if he began to trust her enough, he might tell her more about the Cullens.

"Yeah, sure," she said with a kind smile. "I'd be happy to help."

"I don't intend on becoming your friend, mind you," Harry declared. "I just need help to pass, graduate, and leave this place." It wasn't said unkindly, just… matter-of-factly.

"Oh," murmured Bella. How do you respond to that? "Um, would you like to come over tomorrow morning, then?" Hopefully she could convince him to be friendly anyway.

Harry screwed up his face. "Will your father be there?"

Bella sighed. Great, he's still scared of Charlie.

"No, he goes out fishing on Saturday mornings. It'll be just us," she added, hoping that should be what he was after. "Do you want a lift home and I can show you my place on the way?"

' _Make it sound like it would benefit him to come with you,'_ Bella thought strategically.

Harry hesitated for a long time before finally nodding in acceptance and walking around to get in the passenger side. This time Bella did start the engine, the roar of the Chevy doing nothing to deter people from staring. Harry now settled in his seat, they pulled out of the lot leaving the school and their gawking classmates far behind.

"I don't know about you," Bella began bravely, "but I'm so glad that week is over."

"You have no idea," Harry muttered into his window. The rest of their drive passed in near silence, Bella only speaking to point out her own house before turning around to follow Harry's directions to his.

As they pulled into the sweeping drive, Bella's jaw dropped at the mansion before her.

"Oh hell," Harry whined.

Taking her eyes away from the tall gabled roof, Bella found the cause of Harry's distress.

"Were you supposed to see my dad today?" Bella asked, for sitting in the driveway was a police cruiser, against which was leaning a very angry looking Charlie Swan.

"He wanted me at the station." Harry's reply was a whisper, whether it be of fear or anger Bella could not be sure. Whichever it was, it was with definite trepidation that Harry opened the Chevy's heavy door and stepped out into the firing line. Knowing all too well the look on Charlie's face as he stormed down the drive to where Harry was standing, Bella got out as well in case things turned nasty.

"So," the Chief began, "you think the rules don't apply to you, eh son? That you can just ignore what I tell you to do?" He was talking quietly, a definite warning sign. Bella gazed uneasily at Harry who had the gall to stand his ground and stare evenly in return. Privately, she was impressed.

"I forgot, sir," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Charlie gave a cruel laugh.

"Forgot, eh? Just like you _forgot_ to see Doctor Cullen the other day? That's convenient." The nasty smile fell from his face as he prepared to give Harry a proper berating, but Bella stepped in.

"Dad, he really did for–"

"Bella, thank you for dropping Harry off but I think you should go home now," her father said without removing his gaze from Harry.

"But Dad –"

"Home, Bella. Now. I need to have a bit of a chat with Mr Potter." Bella knew his tone was final and there was no point arguing. Sighing in annoyance she turned back to her truck.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry." And with that she got behind the driver's seat and backed out of the drive.

The pair watched her drive away, confusion etched upon the older man's face.

"Why are you seeing my daughter tomorrow?"

' _Please tell me they're not dating,'_ Charlie thought to himself.

Harry gave one of his bitter frowns.

"I asked her for help with schoolwork, or is that going against your rules as well? Maybe you'd prefer I just suffer in silence on my own?" The hostility in the boy's voice concerned Charlie. He sighed, wiping his hands slowly down his face. God he was tired.

"I'm pleased you're asking for help actually," he admitted, trying to remove most of the anger from his voice. "It might be good for you two to become friends."

"Of course, that'll make it nice and easy for you to hear all about what I get up to every minute at school, won't it sir? You won't have to send Bella to spy on me all the time if we're friends, she can give you daily reports anyway." It was a cold and callous smile Harry gave as he echoed the sentiments Charlie had heard from Carlisle earlier. So the kid still wouldn't trust anyone?

"I didn't send her to spy on you, kid. I sent her to look out for you. Sometime you've got to realise, Harry, that all these annoying people taking up your time and asking to see you, are doing it because they care for your wellbeing."

Receiving nothing but a glare as response, Charlie sighed. How were they ever going to make him understand?

"Look, how about this?" Charlie said slowly. "If you come to our place to get help from Bella three times a week, I won't make you come and see me at the station. I'll just be in the background, if you need or want to talk to me."

Charlie was pleased to see that Harry was actually seriously considering this arrangement. The coldness from his glare had dissipated, leaving a calculating look as he stared off into the trees, thinking. Hopefully offering the boy the help he had requested would be the main selling point for him, and that he would see the insistence of Charlie being in the background as a tolerable extra.

"Fine," Harry said after almost two minutes. "But if I pass this silly test that you seem to be setting, if I still need help Bella can come to my place too. Without you."

' _I've got a feeling that's the best we'll get.'_

"Agreed."

* * *

 _Dearest one,_

 _He is here. Just as you said he would be. I have seen him. I have even spoken to him, and of course he is none the wiser as to who I am. Everything up until now has gone off without a hitch. He escaped as you knew he would, and I am sure you have fulfilled your part in regards to that as he has since returned to us here._

 _I have not seen him for a few days, however I hear people speaking of him often. From what I have gathered, he is as much of a recluse as you hoped. He does not seem willing to integrate himself into the society here, something that will only make our work easier. Of course, there could be some satisfaction to be had were he to lose more of his pesky friends. We shall have to wait and see._

 _What I do not understand is how he is able to present himself to the public at all. You had told me, and I had agreed, that upon hearing of his most recent losses the boy would tear himself apart. I have seen no evidence of this. Distancing himself from people is insignificant compared to how he should be behaving. Perhaps he is a broken man behind the walls of his home, but nothing is obvious._

 _I will continue to inform you of the situation. I have played my part well. The boy, nor his associates have any knowledge of my motivations, and that is, of course, how it shall stay until the final moments._

 _We have longed for this time. It is finally within sight and we must not lose focus. I trust that you will continue your work as I have done. Shortly, the boy will no longer be a hurdle and we will have our time._

 _The Chosen One will burn._


	23. Chapter 22

It was with no small amount of grumbling that Harry awoke on Saturday morning. Savouring the feeling of comfort his enormous bed provided, he stared up at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

"What have I gotten myself into?" He asked himself. A soft, consoling hoot from his window sill was the response. Artemis, as he had named her, had returned from hunting.

Ever since he had shut the door on Chief Swan yesterday, Harry had wondered whether he had done the right thing in agreeing to the man's arrangement. The thought of having the Chief babysit as he did his homework left an unpleasant taste in Harry's mouth. It was true that Harry himself had sought Bella out for private help, but why did the Chief have to go and make that into even more of a chore than it already was? Harry wondered if he had even been right in approaching Bella for help, but who else could he have gone to? She was the only person who ever paid him any polite attention – Harry discounted the ever-present glares from the Cullen table. He was effectively alone.

"That's what I wanted, and so that's what I've got."

Sighing heavily, Harry finally got out of bed to perform his morning routine. Bella had not specified a time for him to arrive that morning, but with a glance at the clock Harry was out the door with his textbooks by half past nine. It would likely take him twenty minutes at least to walk; he hadn't been offered a lift and refused to stoop so low as to ask for one.

Harry had found it naturally easy to slip back into the _normal_ way of life. His usual summer holidays had always prevented him from becoming too reliant on doing things the _easy way_. Not having spent much time in the wizarding world at the legal age of 17 had also been a help, Harry thought. He felt lighter without the weight of his wand and his magic in his pocket, and now, walking in the crisp morning air through this small American town, Harry realised this was the first time since arriving in Forks that he had felt somewhat at peace.

Harry reflected on what a shame it was that people didn't spend more time out just walking. It was peaceful. He ignored the shadows he could feel around him, trying to drag him into their darkness. With each step his scowl lessened, and so it was with more positive spirit than with which he had woken that he knocked on Bella's front door just before 10 o'clock.

Loud galumphing footsteps alerted him that someone had heard his knock. The door swung open to reveal Bella smiling broadly, dressed warmly from the chill of the air.

"Harry! I realised late last night I didn't tell you when to come over!" She managed to make her excited welcome also sound apologetic.

"Is now okay, I can always –?" Harry started.

"No, of course, now's perfect. Come on inside, it's freezing out here!" She moved out of the doorway so Harry could shuffle past into the house. He was pleased to feel it was much warmer inside.

"Oh no, Harry how did you get here?" Bella asked with dawning comprehension. "You didn't walk, did you?" When Harry just shrugged in response, she cried, "I'm so sorry! I should have picked you up! I'll give you a lift home, of course!"

Harry was quite embarrassed by her incessant apology.

"It's fine, really," he tried, but he knew it was a losing battle.

"Don't be stupid, your house is miles. You're getting a lift, like it or not." And Harry knew it was final. "Come on upstairs, we'll work in my room." Bella turned to head upstairs, going at a much calmer speed than that at which she had descended. Questioning whether this was a good idea once more, Harry followed.

While Bella's house was, thankfully, nowhere near as large as Harry's, it was a perfect size for a small family, Harry thought. The walls were adorned with many childhood photos of Bella, her mother and father occasionally appearing with her. It gave the place a cosy feeling, like a proper home.

"Don't judge my room," Bella said as she turned off the hallway. "It hasn't changed since I was about seven."

Following her inside, Harry was met with a perfectly respectable bedroom for a seventeen year old. Sure there was a definite purple theme and some of the posters were surely from a much younger era, but it just added to the cosiness he had felt since entering the house.

"So what shall we start with?" Bella asked. She had sat herself down at one of the two chairs at her desk which was clear except for Bella's own notes and textbooks as well as an assortment of stationery. Above her desk was an open window, looking out into the street below.

"Maybe Biology. It's like a different language at the moment," Harry admitted bitterly as he fished out his book from his bag. He collapsed into the chair beside Bella and watched as she pulled out her notes, all colour coordinated by topic. Harry couldn't help be reminded of –

' _Don't!'_

The cold air from the open window seemed to frost over Harry's good mood at once.

"Did you have a decent Biology teacher at your school in England? Sometimes that can make things harder to follow if you don't." Bella said politely. Harry had never studied Biology before in his life, of course. He wasn't about to admit that.

"Something like that," he muttered.

And so Bella began to talk him through the past week's material, patiently explaining things even when Harry failed to understand the most basic concepts. She took her time drawing detailed diagrams and helping him look up unfamiliar terms in his textbook, making him summarise each topic they covered as they went. Harry had to admit Bella was a good teacher. He just wished that he understood what on earth she was talking about.

An hour later and after answering his eighteenth straight question incorrectly, Harry threw his pen down in frustration.

"I can't do this!" He cried, bitterly angry with himself. He hadn't even failed this miserably at Potions.

' _Shut up!'_

"You _can_ do this, Harry, it just takes practice," Bella said calmly, but Harry thought he could hear a trace of frustration underlying her reassurance. He couldn't blame her.

"Look, you tried but it just isn't working. I guess I'm just too stupid for this subject."

"Harry!" Bella cried, horror on her face. "That's a terrible thing to say! You've been summarising all the key points really well without any prompting! It's just remembering what you've learned in a different way to answer the questions instead of just reciting it." She was staring at him with pity, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye. He _hated_ pity.

"Why don't we take a break," Bella suggested. "Come on, let's go find something to eat, get away from this desk for a while." Unable to think of a way to leave without being incredibly rude, Harry shoved his hands deep in his pockets and followed. He stomped down the stairs as loudly as he could, not caring if he was acting immature. What had possessed him to think he could cope with high school?

"Coffee?" Bella's voice called from a room further in the house. Following the sound, Harry found his way to a small but well-furnished kitchen. Bella was standing on tip toe, her head buried in a cupboard from which she managed to extract two well-used mugs.

"No, I'm okay," Harry said, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. He'd never had coffee before but the smell had never attracted him.

"I suppose you prefer tea? None of us drink it so we haven't got any, sorry." And she did sound sorry.

"It's fine, really." Why did she have to be so nice to him?

Bella sat down at the small round table, gently blowing on her coffee. Taking a careful sip, she raised an expectant eyebrow at Harry who understood that to mean he should sit down. He stared out the window, watching as a light drizzle began to fall.

"Must remind you of home sometimes," Bella said, indicating the rain outside.

"Yeah," Harry murmured. "Just like home."

"Do you miss it?" She asked it casually, but Harry still felt it was prying.

"Is your mum home?" Harry asked instead. He hoped the answer was no; he hadn't considered the possibility when he had stamped down the stairs.

"She lives in Phoenix with her new husband," Bella said, a slight look of hurt on her face. Harry had a suspicion the look wasn't related to her divorced parents, but rather was directed at him. "What about your parents? Are they still in England?"

Harry sneered nastily at her.

" _My_ parents are dead."

He regretted his tone a second later, so distressed was the look on Bella's face. Harry sighed. Maybe now though she'd stop being nosey.

"Sorry, it's fine, just leave it," he muttered, ashamed.

Just at that moment the front door snapped open and shut, making both of them jump. They could hear the sound of someone removing heavy clothing and sighing in the relief of the warmth and dry.

"Bella? You home?" called the voice of the Chief.

' _Great,'_ thought Harry.

"Kitchen!" Bella called back, giving Harry an uneasy look.

"Do I smell coffee?" Bella gave Harry a wan smile before jumping up to fix her father a steaming mug of coffee. She was just replacing the pot on the bench when Chief Swan entered the kitchen. He started at the sight of Harry sitting at the table.

"Mr – I mean, Harry, I forgot you would be here," he said casually, clearly trying to forget the tense words the pair had exchanged yesterday. Harry wasn't particularly interested in trying to patch things up with the man, so merely grunted at his greeting. Taking the coffee from Bella, the Chief leaned against the counter and took a long sip. Smacking his lips, he looked content.

"How's the study going?"

Bella glanced at Harry. "It's –"

"Finished," Harry cut in. "We were just finishing. Come on Bella." And he walked out of the kitchen and back upstairs to fetch his books. He had no interest in staying in the house any longer than necessary with the Chief. It was as though all Harry's bitterness and anger had snuck back into the house along with the older man, and the once cosy home was now suffocating him.

Angrily thrusting his books back into his bag, Harry sensed rather than heard Bella come into the room.

"Harry," she began.

"Look, I think we've both had enough for one day. Please," he said and he turned to look at her, "we'll try another time, but I'm done with today." Shouldering his bag, he walked past her out of the room, pointedly not looking at the disappointed frown he knew was on her face. He heard Bella following him but she said nothing. She overtook him on the stairs and walked out the front door ahead of him.

"What are you doing?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"I'm giving you a lift, fool." It wasn't said harshly, but her happiness from earlier was gone. "Get in."

* * *

Bella sat in her room that night thinking about the morning that had transpired. She was frustrated. Frustrated with herself, frustrated with Harry, even frustrated with her father. True she couldn't help Harry's attitude, nor the way her father's mere presence seemed to rile the boy like nothing else. But she herself was also at fault, and that was something which she could control. She regretted not insisting Harry stay longer to try finish on a positive note instead of leaving in anger and disappointment.

Bella understood the reason of his frustration, but she didn't understand why it was so. Harry didn't just struggle with the in depth detail from class, but the basic and most fundamental concepts seemed completely new to him. There was only so much blame one could put on poor teaching in the past. If Harry hadn't insisted otherwise, Bella would have been sure he had never sat in a high school science lesson in his life.

Bella also felt terrible at the way Harry had told her of his parents. The way he had announced their deaths was cold and cruel, chilling Bella more than anything he had ever said before. Harry terrified her. She didn't know what someone with that much solitude and instability in their life did to cope. She prayed that Harry wasn't as self-destructive as he sometimes appeared.

The car ride back to Harry's had been filled with uncomfortable silence. Bella had wanted to ask so many more questions, but she knew that Harry would likely not answer and grow even more hostile than he already was. In the end the only words either had said was a quiet "See you Monday" from Bella.

What Bella had hoped for was a chance to discuss the Cullens. She knew there was some kind of past that existed between Harry and the curious family. There seemed to be a mix of pure loathing and frank curiosity in the glares they sent each other, though it was only ever loathing that Harry sent across the room. Bella couldn't explain why their relationship had captured her interest so intensely. All she knew was she wouldn't be able to let it go until she heard the story from one side or the other, and she was fairly confident she wouldn't hear it from the Cullens.

"I _will_ be Harry's friend. I _will_ make him talk to me," she declared to her empty room.

With a new determination she had not felt before, Bella collapsed onto her bed and allowed sleep to take her.


	24. Chapter 23

As the bell rang through the school corridors on Wednesday afternoon, Harry couldn't help give a relieved sigh along with the other students in his class. Today marked three whole weeks since he had started high school. Only two more days until another peaceful weekend away from his classmates. True they weren't bothering him anymore, leaving him alone to his own devices as he desired, but it was still tiring having to show it didn't bother him. Because it _didn't_ bother him. It definitely didn't bother him.

The only person who spoke to him was Bella. He had been doing what the Chief had asked; every Monday and Thursday after school, as well as Saturday morning, Harry had gone to the Swans' house for study help with Bella. There had been quite a few arguments, all of which had sparked from Harry's anger and annoyance. In fact these arguments started as early as their second session, two days after the icy finish to the first.

" _Hey Harry," Bella began, somewhat cautiously Harry thought. "Why do you hate the Cullens so much?"_

" _Um, last time I checked that was none of your business," Harry growled. How dare she assume he would suddenly reveal all his secrets now she was helping him?_

" _Sorry," she said, somewhat icily, "I didn't realise it was a state secret. I've never seen anyone look at them with as much loathing as you do," she continued._

" _If we don't drop this conversation right now they won't be the only ones I glare at with loathing," he threatened._

Harry walked out of the main building into the carpark, gazing briefly at the family that had made his blood boil that day. What did Bella care if he didn't like the Cullens? No one spoke to them, it wasn't as if Harry was the only person hating a group of the nicest and friendliest people in school. They hadn't bothered to try and befriend him either, a small mercy in Harry's opinion. Although he figured that was probably due to them still following the instructions of their interfering father. The doctor had come by Harry's house again, two days after the argument with Bella, when Harry had purposely failed to turn up at the hospital again, but receiving the same cold treatment as the previous week, he had left empty handed once more.

Walking slowly across the carpark and out onto the main road, Harry thought back on some of his other sessions with Bella. Things had actually started to make more sense in class. He just wished it was easier talking to Bella; having a past such as his own made small talk very difficult.

" _What was your school in England like?" Bella had asked on a Thursday afternoon._

" _Well," Harry began, drawing out the word as long as he could. "It was an old boarding school." That was safe information to give, right?_

" _Cool," Bella said. "Is boarding school fun? I imagine it could be difficult to get any privacy sometimes."_

" _You have no idea."_

" _What were your favourite subjects?"_

'Oh I really liked making things fly and transforming objects.'

" _Well I liked sports, I guess," he said carefully._

" _I've always been terrible at sports," Bella admitted. "Just never had the coordination I suppose."_

" _Maybe you'll stumble across something you're good at one day. Like an accident." Harry couldn't help but smile._

The weather had cooled a lot over the past few weeks. Harry picked up his speed a bit to keep himself warm. Most days Bella either drove him to her house for their study sessions or else drove him home, but she couldn't today. Something about going out with some of the other girls; they had left immediately after school. Still, Harry didn't mind. It gave him time to think.

After the first few disastrous lessons, he had made a valiant effort to control his anger. Bella didn't have to help him, she was doing it because she was a nice person. It wasn't fair to direct his bitterness with the world at her. She had even bought tea especially for him to have during their meetings. While supressing his anger had been difficult, it had definitely made things more peaceable.

" _Am I allowed to ask about the Cullens yet?" Bella asked casually during their fourth session._

 _Harry sighed sadly._

" _You wouldn't understand."_

" _But –"_

" _How do you do this question?"_

The defeated and dejected mood had lasted over a week, seeping into everything he did. During his last meeting with Doctor Cullen, Harry couldn't even muster the energy to get angry with the man.

" _Come in," Harry had called, his voice muffled by the cushion his face was squished into. Cullen of course had no trouble hearing him and came inside. Harry didn't give him a chance to start talking._

" _Look Doctor Cullen, I'm really not in the mood to be psychoanalysed today." Harry had even turned to look at the doctor, knowing how pathetic and miserable he looked._

" _Is there anything I can do?" Cullen's ever present concern._

" _No thanks. I'll be alright. I always am."_

What was the point, he'd figured. It didn't even make him feel better anymore getting angry at Cullen like that. Like everything else these days, it just left him feeling empty and alone. The only time he didn't feel like this was when he was studying with Bella. No matter how hard he tried not to be too friendly, he found himself answering her questions about home or telling her about himself. It was disconcerting.

" _You don't talk about home much, do you?" Bella pointed out one Saturday morning._

 _Harry shrugged. "I guess I'm just happy to leave it behind me for now," he said simply._

" _But you must have some good memories of home?"_

 _Harry gave her a sad smile. "That's what makes it hard."_

Finally arriving at his destination, Harry entered the front door and wondered where he was supposed to go. He had thought after that day it would be the end of it. Bella hadn't even mentioned the Cullens in their next session. But it was after the most recent meeting that Harry realised Bella hadn't been ignoring it, but rather building up to a proper chastising.

" _So the Cullens…"_

" _Bella," Harry said, exasperated. "When are you going to let it go about them?"_

" _No, Harry," she replied, angrily, "when are_ you _going to grow up?"_

 _Harry stared at her. "Excuse me?"_

 _Bella just grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a pen, placing them both in front of Harry on top of his notebook._

" _What are you –"_

" _You're going to write down three things the Cullens have done wrong by you. If you can come up with three, I won't bring it up again, I swear." Bella stared at him with such determination that Harry floundered._

" _Bella, you don't –"_

" _Don't you dare say I don't understand, Harry Potter," Bella demanded. God, she was scary._

 _Harry stared at the page in front of him, squirming uncomfortably._

" _Bella, it's more what they could_ do _than what they've_ done _," he tried to explain._

" _What does that mean!?" Bella cried. "Please, tell me." She was pleading with him._

" _Well, the dad – the doctor – he's always showing up at my house demanding to speak to me," he defended half-heartedly._

" _Well you were supposed to see him at the hospital," she countered. "And he's showing he cares."_

" _The rest of them, then," Harry tried, "they never show me anything but hostility at school!" But Bella wasn't having this either; she scoffed._

" _Yeah, because you've been so warm to them, haven't you?" Bella stared at him, but Harry couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. He stared dejectedly at the blank paper._

" _You can't, can you?" She said softly. "Because they haven't done anything to you. Everything they've done has been out of care and respect, but you've thrown it all back at them." Harry could feel the anger he had supressed for the last two weeks resurfacing. "Give them a chance, Harry."_

 _Shaking his head, Harry packed his bag to leave, half an hour earlier than usual._

" _You just don't understand."_

But Harry hadn't been able to think of anything else since that afternoon. Even now as he walked down the twisting corridors that made his heart pound in anxiety, he could think of nothing but the truth in Bella's words. She was right, as usual. He had, in fact, gone home and sat with a notepad and pen and tried to write down three things the Cullens had done wrong, but other than the two weak excuses he had given Bella, Harry was stumped. It hurt his pride to admit that he was wrong. Not as much as the next few minutes would hurt though, he thought. It was, Harry supposed, all Bella's fault that he was now about to do what he had fought so valiantly against for the last three weeks.

Harry reached up to knock on the door in front of him, the brass name plate looking down upon him – DR C. CULLEN.

* * *

The last few weeks had been the longest of Carlisle's existence. It didn't seem to matter how he attempted to distract his mind: complicated surgeries and procedures, ethical debates with Edward, even wonderful alone time with Esme. Nothing could ease the worry for Harry Potter that had consumed Carlisle's every thought.

Three times he had now visited the boy, each time as fruitless as the last. At first he had been met with anger; this Carlisle could understand. As Harry had said, his life was being controlled far more than Carlisle presumed it ever had been before. Despite Carlisle and Charlie knowing what they did was done out of concern for the boy, they had failed in making Harry understand. And so the boy had latched onto the feeling of his life slowly being prised from his hands, leaving him grasping at what remained.

Yes, the anger Carlisle could manage. It was the new emotion that had taken Harry that he could not: heart-aching despair. Harry had given up and Carlisle's last visit had been eye-opening and terrifying. Harry hadn't once raised his voice, nor insulted his doctor, two things which Carlisle should be pleased with and mark down as significant progress. And it _was_ progress of a kind, but a downward spiralling progress that Carlisle could only see ending in tragedy if Harry did not wake from his misery soon. He had told his family to keep as close an eye on the boy as possible without causing him further stress. It transpired that while they were not as clear as normal, Jasper was able to partially understand Harry's emotions, however Carlisle was wary to ask too much of his son. Jasper's first venture into the boy's feelings had left him shaken and deeply disturbed. He had needed three days to recover.

While Carlisle did not stop stressing, he had been genuinely thrilled to hear that Harry had become almost friendly with the Chief's daughter. It was perhaps this, Carlisle had considered, that had prevented Harry from sliding any further down the slippery slope he was on. By his children's accounts he had warmed no further to the Cullen family, and while this disappointed Carlisle it did not surprise him. Only Harry could judge when he was ready to allow Carlisle and the others into his life as he had done with Isabella Swan. Carlisle had prayed each day and night that it would not be much longer.

So Carlisle had dragged himself through another Wednesday, the day that had become tradition to his afternoon visits to the Potter house. Frightened of what state he would find Harry in, it was with slow dread that Carlisle began to tidy his desk that afternoon. Just as he reached for the light switch to leave his office in darkness, a powerful scent almost lifted him off his feet.

 _Harry._

Was he hurt? Carlisle strained all of his senses, honing in on the boy who had just entered the hospital reception. He could smell no blood. _Good._ He could hear no tell-tale unevenness to his step that indicated an injury. _Better._ Why was he here?

Not having moved from the spot beside his closed office door, Carlisle listened as the footsteps he was beginning to know so well grew steadily louder. He could hear the boy's heartbeat pounding in his chest; was it being back in this hospital that caused him such fear, or was it the thought of what was lurking behind the office door that Carlisle could hear he had stopped outside.

 _His_ office.

How long they both stood there, separated by a mere pane of wood, Carlisle did not know. He could hear Harry's nervous rattling breath, blowing unevenly against the door between them. Harry would know that Carlisle knew he was there. He may have even suspected just how early his doctor had known of his presence in the hospital. Carlisle refused to open the door though. He knew it had to be Harry who initiated this meeting.

And so he did.

The boy knocked.

Letting out a slow breath, Carlisle waited a few seconds before opening the door. Harry Potter stood there no longer the perfect picture of health he had been that first day at the school, but still a far cry healthier than he had been upon arrival in Forks. Dark circles beneath his lifeless eyes stood out on his pale face. His clothes hung loosely on his small frame, showing he was still severely underfed. Trying to put his deeply concerning appearance to one side for now, Carlisle gave Harry a warm smile.

"Harry," he said, "what a lovely surprise. Come in." Carlisle moved aside allowing Harry to step in past him. He closed the door before turning around. Harry was frowning at the empty desk.

"Were you going home?" The boy asked. "I can come back if you need to go." Carlisle was pleased that he sounded less miserable than the last time the pair had spoken, but he didn't like how nervous Harry sounded.

"Well, I was actually about to come and see how you were again," Carlisle admitted.

"Oh, right." Harry said simply. Both of them sat down, one on each side of the desk. Carlisle watched Harry closely, waiting to see if the boy would speak. He did not want to race this. It was the first time Harry had sought him out and he wasn't about to pressure the boy to hurry up.

Harry meanwhile was looking anywhere except at Carlisle. The doctor watched as Harry moved his gaze from one item to the next in the office.

"What's that?" Harry asked suddenly, pointing at a framed photograph on the wall. Carlisle decided to humour him for now.

"That is a photo I took over the Grand Canyon," he explained. "In 1842." Harry raised an eyebrow at this.

"Wow." Carlisle suspected Harry hadn't wanted to be impressed, but couldn't help the reaction escape his lips.

"Harry," Carlisle began, "as much as I enjoy analysing the exquisite décor of my office, was there something you wished to discuss with me?" He watched the boy's cheeks flush brightly. Harry gave a great sigh.

"Look this isn't easy, alright?" He didn't get angry, but he squirmed uneasily in his seat. "I've never been good at trusting people. I've never understood why people think they automatically deserve kindness and trust. Life doesn't work that way. You have to earn those things. That's what I've been made to believe." Harry finally looked at Carlisle, his eyes begging for the doctor to understand.

"I've had a rubbish life, Doctor. I didn't know what being cared for meant until I was eleven, and even now I still struggle with accepting what it actually involves. That's just who I am. It can't be helped.

"I don't trust you, Doctor Cullen. I _can't_ trust you." Harry paused, his miserable eyes watching Carlisle closely. Even though he understood what the boy was saying, it still _hurt._

"But I can't hate you either," Harry finished quietly.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Carlisle asked, confused.

"I've been spending time with Chief Swan's daughter," Harry said, his voice having lost some of the heavy emotion that had been present. "She kept pestering me about why I hated your family so much. I told her she wouldn't understand, but she didn't like that. She made me list all the terrible things you had done to me since I came to Forks." Harry stopped after this and frowned at Carlisle.

"And I couldn't," he said simply. "There wasn't anything. I tried to think of things, but Bella beat them all back with my own poor behaviour. I became angry at her then, but I haven't been able to think of anything since. She was right. She's always right."

Carlisle watched Harry very carefully. He didn't want to show any emotion that would scare or worry the boy, so he kept his face as neutral as possible. Inside, though, his mind was whirring. Bless Isabella Swan. She had managed what neither he nor the Chief had; she had opened Harry's eyes, made him _understand._

"So, I suppose," Harry was shuffling awkwardly again, "I apologise."

"I…" Carlisle knew he had to be very careful about what he said. This was the most he had ever heard Harry speak, and he knew how difficult it would have been for the boy to tell Carlisle these things. He hoped that this was a sign of things to come, and that Harry did have the ability to trust. It was just a matter of proving to him that Carlisle should earn it.

"Thank-you, Harry. I understand that your past has been filled with negativity. I hope that over time you can begin to trust me, as I believe you're starting to realise I only have your best interests at heart." Carlisle paused, considering the young man sat in front of him who was staring at his knees.

"Lots of people have said that before," Harry murmured. "Most of them have ended up dead." With these words he looked up and Carlisle could see some stirrings of life in his green eyes. Something he had not seen since before Harry had disappeared from hospital.

"You've known other people who have died then? Not only your parents?" Carlisle asked softly.

Harry gave a humourless chuckle. "I couldn't begin to count, sir."

Carlisle studied Harry for a long time.

"I think you would be surprised at just how much the two of us have in common." Carlisle confessed.

How many people had Carlisle lost over the centuries? Hadn't he also made it a point of distancing himself from humans with the foresight that one day he would have to leave them behind? It was horrible to conceive that Harry had felt the need to take the same approach so early in his life, not because he would never age with them like Carlisle, but because he worried _they_ would never be able to age with _him_.

Carlisle knew that he could not force himself upon Harry's future. What Harry chose to do with his life beyond school and Forks was ultimately up to him. All Carlisle could hope to do was influence the boy's life for the better while he was here, giving him the best chance at a fulfilling and happy future, something Carlisle suspected Harry had given up on long ago.

"So what happens now?" asked Harry.

"Well," Carlisle pondered. "How would you like to come visit me like this every Wednesday?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "And do what?"

"Whatever you like," Carlisle said. "We can talk about things, or I can find some things for you to help me with." Maybe one day when Harry felt more at ease around him he could invite the boy to his house. Carlisle suspected it was still too early for Harry to even consider that suggestion yet.

"Alright," Harry said, shrugging. He stood up. "I'll see you next Wednesday then." Carlisle stood up too. He'd like to suggest Harry stay longer, but he didn't want to push his good will. It had been hard for Harry to come and speak to him like this. For now, Carlisle was happy.

He walked around his desk to open the door, then making a last minute decision, turned to offer his hand to shake with Harry. For quite a while Harry stared at it, and Carlisle could see the inner debate. Feeling slightly guilty at forcing the boy to shake hands, he began to lower it again when suddenly Harry grasped the doctor's hand in his own, giving it one firm shake before dropping it again.

"Until Wednesday," Carlisle said.

Harry nodded once, his eyes void of the emotion he had been venting. Carlisle watched as he walked out the door. Harry was most of the way down the corridor when Carlisle heard the light-hearted snipe.

"And try some hand warmers, why don't you?"


	25. Chapter 24

Harry had been acting strange all day, Bella thought as she watched her classmate from afar one Thursday. He hadn't said a word on the drive to school, which wasn't overly unusual as a rule, except that he seemed to be a million miles away lost in thought rather than simply not wanting to have a conversation. Even now as Bella watched him walk into the cafeteria, Harry seemed completely unaware of his surroundings. He didn't even provide the Cullens with his customary scowl.

What could have gotten into him? Bella had noticed that he had been somewhat spaced out since Tuesday, the day after she had properly gotten angry at him about the Cullens. But today was even worse. Had something happened? She gave him a small wave to get his attention; he had been scanning the room with a frown of confusion, which lifted once he saw Bella and began to wind his way through the tables.

"Hey," she said as he placed his food on the table. "How was the morning?"

"Hmm," was the only response Harry gave, lifting his sandwich absentmindedly to his mouth.

"Cool," Bella said somewhat sarcastically. Harry was now staring at the Cullen table with a deep frown, though Bella noticed it was not his usual frown of anger and hatred. This look was contemplative, as though he wasn't entirely sure what to make of them.

"Harry, what –"

"I did what you said," Harry announced all of a sudden.

What had she said?

"What did I say?"

Harry turned to look at her, confused. "You know," he prompted, "at our last meeting."

"Is this something about the Cullens?" she asked. As she said it, Bella sensed rather than saw the attention of the strange family focus onto her and Harry. She shivered.

"You were right," Harry began. "I shouldn't hate them. You have no idea how hard it is for me not to, but you're right that I shouldn't. I… went and saw Doctor Cullen at the hospital yesterday." The last part he said in a whisper.

This, at least, began to explain the change in Harry's behaviour. He was right about one thing: she didn't understand why he felt the desperate need to hate them. There was still so much she didn't know about the Cullens, but also Harry. Several times she had thought about how little he really said about himself. Bella knew terrible things had happened to Harry before, but other than the death of his parents, which she had gathered was a long time ago, she couldn't begin to imagine what. Why did a seventeen year old feel the need to escape his life to a whole new continent and start again? Was this solemn and depressed kid the same Harry that had always existed, or had he once known happiness? And what on earth could have taken that life from him?

"How did it go?" She asked.

Harry shrugged. "Okay, I suppose," he said. "I told him what I've just told you. I don't hate him. But I can't trust him either."

"Why not?" Bella frowned. "He's been trying to help you." She didn't – _couldn't –_ understand.

This time it was Harry's turn to frown. "How can I? He has to earn it, doesn't he? If he can show me he deserves it then I will, but so far I just can't, Bella. I can't." He stared at her, eyes wide and begging for understanding. Begging she wouldn't question his resolve.

"Then who do you trust?" Bella asked, trying not to get her hopes up.

"I'm starting to trust you," he said. Bella smiled at him; she thought she could understand how difficult it was for Harry to admit that.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said honestly.

"So then I've been meaning to ask you something." The nervous Harry was back, biting his lip as he did whenever he wasn't sure of what he was about to say. Bella stayed quiet, giving him time to think.

"Would it be alright with you," he began, "if we were kind of friends?" There were many emotions on Harry's face. Bella thought she could still see his usual pain and sadness, but also hope. She grinned at him.

"Yes, Harry. I'd love to be your kind-of-friend."

Harry sighed as his shoulders dropped, released of the tension Bella hadn't noticed he'd been carrying.

"You've been good to me," he said simply. "I actually get things in class now. But also I don't feel as angry with the world when I'm with you." Harry looked at her with a slight frown on his brow. "I know that's a selfish reason to want a friend, but I'm a selfish person." He smiled then, one of his sad apologetic smiles that he gave whenever he was pointing out a flaw in his personality.

"You're not selfish, Harry," Bella said kindly but firmly.

Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what I'd done. What I've _just_ done."

"Then tell me." Instead of answering, Harry gave her another sad smile and stood up just as the bell rang.

"See you in class." And he walked away.

"The little…" Scowling, Bella disposed of her trash and followed Harry to Biology. Again she felt rather than saw Edward Cullen fall into step close behind her.

If she were being honest, she hadn't given her lab partner very much thought at all during her first three weeks. So obsessed had she been with befriending Harry and observing the family at lunch, she had almost forgotten that Edward had sat next to her in Biology since the beginning. Now that she was finally earning Harry's trust, she found her attention drawn instead to the odd Cullen out.

They had exchanged very few words with each other. Mr Banner had only assigned work in their pairs twice since Bella had arrived, and for both, whether coincidence or otherwise, Edward had been absent. When he had been in class, Bella had noticed his attention on Harry most of the time. There were occasions which Bella found disconcerting, during which she could see Edward openly staring at her out of her peripheral vision. It did not seem to matter which of the pair he was staring at, Bella always noticed the same look of deep concentration, a small frown marring his otherwise flawless features. Whatever it was Edward was trying to understand about Harry, it seemed he had similar misgivings about Bella.

From what she had observed in the school, she didn't entirely understand why the Cullens were given such a wide berth. They always kept to themselves, which was fair enough really, but why did no one else ever seem to approach them? Edward was the only Cullen that Bella shared a class with, but she knew from her friends that no one spoke to any of the others in class either. For two years the family had been in Forks, but had never made any friends. Did they share Harry's negative beliefs of trusting others?

Today, however, she didn't like the look on Edward's face as they sat down at their bench. It wasn't that he looked angry or confrontational. Quite the opposite. He was giving her an award winning smile.

"Hello," he said in a voice so smooth it should be criminal.

"Hi." Bella hoped he didn't notice how suspicious she sounded.

"We're working in our pairs today," he explained. "Banner wants us to identify the phases of mitosis. A pop quiz." There it was again, that magazine cover smile. Bella frowned. Mr Banner had only just walked in the door. He certainly hadn't set the task yet.

"How do you –"

"Alright everybody, in your pairs today identifying the stages of mitosis through these microscopes," he indicated the ones just in front of him. "Think of it as a pop quiz of our work a few weeks back." He smiled widely at the class, most of whom had already begun discussing the task. Even Harry had begrudgingly put his head together with Mike's to study the slides.

' _How had he known the task already?'_

"Would you like to go first, or shall I?" Edward asked, pulling Bella from her thoughts.

"Oh, um, you can if you like." As Edward glanced into the microscope, Harry turned around, sending Bella a questioning look, glancing between her and Edward. Not knowing what else to do, she shrugged back at him, just as Edward resurfaced declaring, "Anaphase."

"So, Bella Swan," he said, "tell me about yourself."

First Harry starts to forgive the Cullens, now Edward is talking to her like they're friends? Bella pinched herself. It hurt.

' _Well, seems like this is actually happening.'_

"There's not much to tell, really," she confessed. "I was living with Mom in Phoenix and now I'm living here with Dad." She glanced in the microscope. "This one's Prophase."

"But you grew up here, didn't you?" he probed further. "So you must know quite a few people here from before." He changed the slide again.

Bella nodded slowly. "I guess so, yeah. It's been a while since I schooled here, though. I don't remember any of you, for example." Bella thought this was a very strange line of questioning. Where was this going?

"Yes, well, we only came to Forks recently. You two seemed to know each other already," he said, motioning towards Harry who was sitting very still as if listening to every word being said behind him. "Metaphase."

"We met briefly," Bella admitted slowly. Why did Edward care about this?

"You're very alike," Edward went on. "You aren't related, are you?"

Bella couldn't help laughing out loud. "You're kidding?" She gasped. "We don't look at all similar."

"No, I suppose you don't." He looked over at Harry who had turned around properly to glare at Edward. Apparently not up for a staring contest, Edward looked back to Bella and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the expression on her face.

"Sorry if I was rather probing just now," he apologised sincerely. "I merely found it curious how you two seemed to know each other. I find you both very difficult to read."

' _What does_ that _mean?'_

"No, it's fine, I guess," she stammered. "You're allowed to be curious." Is he? Bella was sure that Harry was currently questioning his newly formed truce with the Cullen clan.

They continued the rest of the lesson in this fashion; Edward would ask her questions and she would answer as vaguely as possible. Until she knew what his deal was, she didn't want to trust Edward with too much information about herself. He seemed determined to know her, yet Bella couldn't help being charmed by his personality.

What was wrong with her?

Class ended with a cheery "See you in gym" from Edward. Still blinking in confusion after him, Bella didn't notice Harry come to stand next to her.

"What the hell was all that?" He asked angrily. "Since when are you and Cullen mates?"

Bella turned to look at Harry. "We weren't – we aren't. I don't know." She was so confused.

They walked out of the classroom together, making their way to the gym in silence. Once sitting in the stands waiting for Coach Clapp to take the roll, Bella noticed Edward and his brother, Emmett, standing in a far corner. They looked as though they were arguing. Shoving his brother forcibly, Edward stormed off to sit at the back of the class. When Bella looked at Emmett, she was surprised to see him staring back in anger. It almost felt like they'd been arguing about _her_.

' _What the hell was that about?'_

* * *

She walked through the bowels of the Ministry, growing taller with every gaze that turned to follow. The atrium glittered around her as she made her way into one of the elevators. A space was cleared for her at once.

' _As they should,'_ she thought, and stepped inside.

Today a new Minister was to be chosen. Why it had taken them almost a month, nobody was entirely sure. Kingsley Shacklebolt's body had been found more than three weeks ago, murdered, they said, with the Killing Curse. "A tragedy" she had said, as she pretended to mourn with the rest. Panic and fear had immediately taken hold of the Wizarding World once more, mere days after the Dark Lord's defeat. It had begun with their hero's abandonment. The Boy Who Lived had fled, and now there were few who did not believe he too had been the one to murder their Minister.

She couldn't help the smile that crept on to her face.

Since then her days had been spent providing comfort to the bereaved, giving assurance that the murderer would be brought to justice. She had put herself out there and she had since heard the whispers. There could only be one fit for the Minister's role.

She exited the elevator, walking purposefully past the Department of Mysteries until she reached the courtroom of the Wizengamot. Offering greetings to those already gathered, she took her new seat on the front bench. She glanced back at where she had used to sit before her promotion and smirked. She had always known she was destined for greater things.

"I call to order this meeting of the Wizengamot assembled to inaugurate our new Minister for Magic," the little man down the front declared. He was no more important than her. Only _she_ was moments from becoming the most important person in Wizarding Britain.

"You are aware of the names put forth. Now we shall vote."

She watched in amusement as the hands rose in a unanimous decision. Not one other candidate had received a vote. She almost cried out in mirth.

Banging his gavel twice, the little man cried, "And so on this day, let it be known, our new Minister for Magic!"

Applause began as she stood. She would be the one to take them out of this darkness and further into the light than they had ever been before.

And Minister Prestwick smiled.


	26. Chapter 25

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur for Bella. The colder weather had properly set in now, making the roads icy and dangerous. She had smiled when she noticed one frosty morning that Charlie had put the chains on her tyres so as her truck wouldn't skid off the road. The same unfortunately could not be said for Bella herself; yesterday she had slipped no fewer than five times on her driveway.

Since that Biology class, Edward had taken any opportunity he could find to talk to Bella. For the first several days, she had continued to find this both strange and suspicious, but the more they spoke, Bella couldn't help finding herself enjoying his company. Edward was polite and considerate, almost to a point of being old fashioned. He was equally amusing and intelligent, appreciating her love of classical music and fiction. Most of all with her prolonged exposure, she found herself falling for his natural charm. More than once she had recently found herself staring at him across the cafeteria, no longer out of curiosity and suspicion. No. This was something far more dangerous.

Bella was falling for Edward Cullen.

Not that she would admit that to another living being. Jessica had already been irritatingly chatty since Bella and Edward had become friendly. No, Bella had decided that was a piece of information best kept to herself. She certainly wasn't going to share it with Harry.

Her English friend had grown increasingly distant since declaring their sort-of-friend status, and Bella wasn't oblivious to the reason why. The friendlier she and Edward became, the more loathsome were Harry's glares directed at the Cullen. Whenever the two were in the same room, Harry would shoot venom from his eyes while Edward would completely ignore the hostility sent his way. Otherwise, Harry would refuse to be in the other boy's presence. Where Bella used to walk with Harry between classes, now it was Edward by her side. Yesterday when Edward had dared sit with Bella at lunch to much whispering and muttering, Harry had failed to show during mealtime at all. Bella had found him later muttering angrily to himself as he slammed his locker shut. He hadn't hung around for a lift home either, instead walking himself through the steady rain.

Bella was worried about him. She wasn't trying to shut him out, but he had effectively prevented any opportunity to include himself. Even when it was just the two of them, Harry would sit in stony silence not dissimilar to his initial behaviour when he came to Forks. That didn't mean she stopped trying. She had tried to discuss the situation with him but unsurprisingly he hadn't been interested, simply repeating the statement "I just don't like the guy," whenever she brought it up.

Edward had been equally unhelpful. He had asked Bella if she would like to drive to school with him, but she had declined the offer saying that she couldn't abandon Harry. He had half-heartedly suggested Harry could come as well, but Bella could tell the thought of him coming along made Edward uneasy. He at least didn't appear to show Harry any outward dislike. The same could not be said of Edward's family with Bella, who now seemed to think any moment not spent death staring her was a moment wasted. She didn't understand their reaction, and Edward hadn't been very forthcoming with explanations.

"Don't mind them," he had said, "it's me they're glaring at anyway."

That was as helpful an answer as she ever received. She was pretty sure he was lying anyway. Their eyes never followed him around the room.

And so it was the morning after Edward had sat with her at lunch that Bella found herself driving along the icy roads to Harry's house as usual, wondering to herself whether he might have started to walk to school on his own instead. Sure enough as she turned onto his street, she saw a bundled up Harry halfway to the corner.

"Get in," she called through her open window as she pulled up alongside him.

"I want to walk today," came his reply.

"Don't be stupid, it's 34 degrees out, you'll catch pneumonia." She began to roll the Chevy forwards, keeping up with him as he continued to walk.

"34 degrees, huh? Wouldn't have thought it was that hot," he joked indifferently.

"Ha ha," Bella droned. "34 Fahrenheit, genius. Just get in, you'll never make it in time in this weather."

Grumbling something about interfering fools, Harry got into the passenger seat. Bella smiled to herself as she pulled out and headed off towards the school.

As usual, Harry remained silent for the entire journey. Bella didn't know what to say to him either. Only when they pulled into a parking space did she say anything.

"Harry, about yesterday," she began.

"Forget it," Harry cut her off. "Nothing happened." He swung his bag over his shoulder as he slid out of the passenger side, refusing to look at Bella.

"But it did, Harry," she cried, slamming the driver's door. "Why did you not come to sit at lunch?"

He scowled at her. "You know perfectly well why I didn't."

"Perhaps, but I don't understand properly. You've still been seeing Doctor Cullen every Wednesday, I thought things were getting better?" She couldn't help the hint of anger that was seeping into her voice. Why did he have to make things so hard?

"What does that have to do with anything? He's not my bloody psychiatrist!" Harry seethed. He too was becoming annoyed. "This is your buddy Cullen we're talking about."

"What does that even –?"

"Don't you get it? Cullen doesn't even care about you!" he sneered. "He's only being friendly because he wants to learn about me!"

"Oh, right, because you're so important!" Bella hissed back, trying to keep her voice down from the passing students. She could see the Cullens on the other side of the parking lot watching her like always. "Why on earth would anyone be interested in becoming my friend for _me_?" She couldn't help the angry tears that blurred her vision.

"Beats me," Harry spat.

Bella turned on the spot and stormed off towards the school. How _dare_ he say those things? What right did he have?

Her vision still blurred from the tears she wouldn't let fall, Bella saw nothing but heard the screeching tyres and someone scream. There was an almighty crash as Bella felt something knock hard against her head.

People were still screaming.

They were screaming her name.

"Bella, are you alright?!" Came a panicked voice in her ear. Edward.

She focused her eyes on the scene: a large van stopped right in front of her, its side bashed in where Edward's hand was sitting.

Bella stared at him in confusion and fear. He saw her gazing at his hand and removed it. He stared at her meaningfully.

Edward's hand fit the dent perfectly.

Edward had created that dent.

Edward had stopped the van from crushing her.

 _But how?_

* * *

Edward didn't much care for what the rest of his family thought of his actions, and he had heard them loud and clear in their minds. Had he not stopped that fool Tyler's van from crushing Bella, the parking lot would have soon filled with her potent blood and Jasper wouldn't have been the only one needing to be held back. His worry about not hearing Bella's thoughts had morphed into intrigue and curiosity as he talked more with her. Jasper alone of his siblings was aware of just how close Edward was growing to Bella.

This was another important reason why Edward couldn't let the van crush her. He knew it was fast becoming more than a friend that he considered her. He had discussed it with Carlisle a few times, the only advice given to do what he thought was best. Carlisle had always trusted Edward's decisions and hopefully this wouldn't be the time when he regretted that trust.

Now he was sat in the consult room with Bella, waiting for the doctor – who Edward knew would be Carlisle – to come and check her over. He was waiting for the questioning to start, and he didn't have to wait for long.

"How did you get to me so fast?" she asked him, frowning in confusion.

He smiled. "I was standing right behind you, Bella," he said.

"No," Bella drew the word out. "You were on the other side of the parking lot with your family."

"What were you and Harry talking about? You both looked pretty upset," he said in an attempt to divert her questioning. He of course had heard every word of their argument. Edward wasn't sure if he had approached any of the last few weeks right; he had been trying to get to know Bella and still give Harry his space, but he had ended up befriending Bella and alienating Harry from his only friend in Forks.

"Nothing important," she said. "And don't change the subject."

"It _is_ important if it made you both that upset," Edward countered, frowning.

Carlisle chose that moment to make his appearance. As he entered the room, Edward heard Bella take a small gasp of breath. He smirked at his father.

"Isabella Swan," Carlisle said with an award-winning smile. "I'm Doctor Cullen. I have heard much about you from Edward." Bella blushed brightly.

" _Laying it on a bit thick, old man,"_ Edward muttered quietly, thankful Bella was facing away from him; he was finding it quite difficult to keep a straight face.

' _You're just jealous you aren't the only one who can make her blush.'_ Raising a single eyebrow infinitesimally at his son, Carlisle continued his examination.

"How does the head feel?" Edward watched as Bella shivered slightly at the gentle touch to her head from Carlisle's icy hands. She winced. "Tender?" Carlisle asked.

"Only a little," she said quietly.

Carlisle checked her pupil reactions and, seemingly happy, nodded to himself.

"Well, everything looks fine to me, and nothing on the x-ray either. Just take some Tylenol as needed for any headaches, and do try to avoid almost getting run over by vans. Then you should be fine," he teased with a smile.

"I _would_ have been run over if Edward hadn't stopped it," Bella said suddenly, glancing surreptitiously at Edward. He felt his father's gaze follow hers.

' _I could never be disappointed that you saved her, Edward, but something tells me you'll have your work cut out trying to change her mind.'_

"Yes, it was lucky Edward was close by on hand," Carlisle said gently. Bella frowned but didn't respond.

"Can I go back to school?" Bella asked.

"I would have thought you may prefer to go home and rest?" Carlisle looked at her in surprise.

"But he's going back, isn't he?" she said, gesturing at Edward.

"Someone has to tell everyone that we survived," he said with humour. Bella meanwhile just frowned at him.

"Your father will be here soon to take you home. I'd prefer if you didn't drive for the next couple of days just to be on the safe side," Carlisle elaborated. "In the meantime, I think one of your friends would like to come and speak to you." He smiled knowingly; Carlisle had obviously sensed Harry's arrival at the hospital as well.

"Oh," Bella said simply. "Alright then. Thank-you Doctor Cullen."

"My pleasure," he said with another one of his bright smiles causing Bella to blush spectacularly once more. Edward listened to his father chuckling internally as he left the room.

' _Oh, she is a sweet one, Edward. I'll send Harry in to her.'_

Edward smiled to himself. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at your place, Bella."

She frowned. "Why at my place?"

"You aren't supposed to be driving, remember? I'll pick you up and then we can go get Harry as well." Edward hoped that Harry was here to reconcile with Bella and not to start another argument. Bella certainly looked unsure at his suggestion, as though she too wondered whether the English boy was still her friend.

"Sure, that'd be great," she said kindly. "See you then." She gave him a calculating look before adding, "By the way, our discussion from before isn't finished."

Edward chuckled as he walked to the door. "Suit yourself."

* * *

Harry had crossed paths with Doctor Cullen – _Carlisle_ he kept insisting on being called – in the hospital waiting area and he directed Harry to find Bella. Judging by the usual friendly smile the Doctor gave him, he was none the wiser to Harry's last words to Bella before she was almost crushed by a van and killed.

 _'Almost killed because of me.'_

That much he knew. Had she not been reduced to tears by him, she could have seen where she was going. Had he not compared one of her friendships to dirt, they would have walked calmly together into the school minutes before Tyler had lost control.

Harry could have done something. Without his promise to not use magic, he could have saved her like he had saved those people on that scaffolding by the hospital. But he had renounced that part of his life, and so it was Edward Cullen who had needed to save the day. And save it he had, at a great risk to his family's own secret. Was it possible Harry had misjudged him? If he was so protective of Bella that he risked exposure, could he actually be… good?

Good or not, it wouldn't matter so much anyway, Harry figured, if Bella decided she never wanted to speak to him again. Harry wouldn't be able to blame her if she did; he had said horrible things to her about her friendship with Edward but also about her. He wished he could take back his words, but as he knew from a long history of spats and rows with friends, the only way to fix them was to talk. He just wished the Cullens didn't have to hear everything as well.

Harry spotted the aforementioned Cullen coming out of a room up ahead, presumably Bella's. He was proven correct, as Edward nodded once at him and said, "She's in there waiting for you."

Harry didn't respond. He just nodded once before walking into the room.

Bella was sitting on the edge of a small examination table, swinging her legs freely. She was facing away from the door and so couldn't see that Harry had just walked in. He cleared his throat uncomfortably making her turn around.

"Harry!" She cried, clearly surprised at his presence. She was watching him carefully as though unsure of whether he was here to be caring or to yell at her again. "I wasn't expecting you to show up." It was said somewhat icily.

"Um, yeah," he began awkwardly, "I wanted to see how you were doing."

Eyeing him suspiciously she answered, "I'm fine. Why did you _actually_ come?"

' _Because it's my fault you almost died.'_

"I didn't trust Cullen to take care of you properly," he tried to say bitterly. Instead it came out almost as a question. She stared at him in disbelief once more.

"Look, Bella," he relented, "I'm really sorry about what I said. It wasn't fair of me to say any of that. I don't think Cullen – Edward – is talking to you just because of me. I reckon he's just worked out the same thing I have: that you're one of the few people in this school worth being friends with." He finished with a small smile, one of the only genuine smiles he had given anyone since arriving in Forks.

"I know you didn't mean any of it," Bella admitted quietly. "You had a right to be angry. I haven't spent anywhere near as much time with you as I usually would."

Harry shrugged. "I shouldn't expect you to choose between the two of us. I guess if Cull– Edward saved your life then I can put up with him a bit better." This admission from Harry brought a tight frown to Bella's face, a reaction Harry had not anticipated.

"But that's just it, Harry," she said. " _How_ did he save me? He wasn't anywhere near me at the time! And how does a person just push a van out of the way? He wasn't even hurt!"

Harry considered her carefully. He, of course, knew just how Cullen had managed it. Bella, meanwhile, had no idea and that's the way it had to stay. The Cullens had kept quiet about Harry and what he could do, yet another thing he had to respect the family for. The least he could do was return the favour.

"Bella," he began, "Edward was standing right beside you at the time." She ignored him.

"Edward's been trying to change the subject when I bring it up, but I don't understand why." She looked at Harry, pleadingly. "You must have seen something, Harry? How did he get to me so fast?"

"He didn't have to. He was next to you, he'd been about to talk to you." He hated lying to her and the look of hurt it brought to her face sickened him. He had just apologised for being unforgivably rude and now he was being openly dishonest. Harry knew it was what he had to do, but that didn't make it any less horrible.

"What? I thought _you_ out of all people would believe me!" She snapped. "Just go away, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow." And she got up and walked out of the room.

Harry sighed. "You'd better bloody thank me, Cullen," he muttered darkly. Seeing no reason to stay, Harry walked out after Bella.

"I know, thank you." The damn vampire was standing out in the hallway, presumably coming out from his hiding place or else Bella would have seen him. Reminding himself of his promise to not hate the guy, Harry gave a polite nod as he walked past him.

"She doesn't believe you, does she?" A voice came out of nowhere making him jump.

"Bloody hell!" he cried. "Do you people have to sneak up on me all the time?" He frowned angrily at the doctor. "She doesn't, no, but she and I will have to deal with that, I guess," he answered once his heart had settled.

Doctor Cullen tilted his head in that curious way he had. "You are determined to keep our secret, aren't you? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "You've kept mine. Besides," his face turned dark, "as I've said before: your job – your life – means more to you than anything like that does to me."

"Harry –" Carlisle started with a concerned frown.

"See you Wednesday," Harry said quickly, hurrying past the man and out the door.


	27. Chapter 26

Bella was furious. It had been almost one week since, thanks to Edward, she had narrowly avoided becoming roadkill, but she was still no closer to knowing how he had done it. Every time she had asked, no matter what wording she used or when she sprung it upon him, the answer she received was as useless and uninformative as possible.

"It was just adrenaline, Bella," he would say.

Or, "I think you're just confused, you hit your head pretty hard."

Every time she received these answers, she would scowl and refuse to talk to him for a while. This never lasted very long; she was far too determined to continue her questioning.

What was even more infuriating, was that Harry was being just as secretive. Bella would notice him and Edward exchange covert glances whenever she mentioned the van incident in the presence of them both. Whatever was going on, Harry seemed to know just as much as Edward.

Harry had appeared to have gotten over most of his bitterness with Edward. While the two were far from best friends, they were amicable to each other, partaking in the occasional light but brief conversation. Car rides with the three of them had become normal, even after Bella had been given the all clear to drive again. Harry was usually sat in the backseat for these journeys, something he frequently grumbled about. Edward only ever responded with an amused smirk.

Most surprisingly, the hostility that Edward's siblings, Rosalie in particular, had toward Harry had near evaporated in the past few days. This confused Bella more than anything, as she had never seen any of them actually speak to Harry. When, therefore, they would have had time to overcome their differences Bella did not know. All she could tell was the change began after the van incident. Just another strange occurrence that she was not privy to.

Well Bella had been doing some research of her own. Admittedly, the internet could only give so much help, and there was a very high number of nutters out there, but she had tried to read between the lines of the stories of aliens and witchcraft to find anything that may give her an idea of what the Cullens and Harry were hiding. Bella had never quite appreciated how many people swore they had seen the real life Superman. Edward may have similarities to superpowers, but she was pretty sure he didn't have a deadly aversion to Kryptonite.

Today, Bella walked into the lunch room, glancing around as usual to spot if either of her two companions were already present. Sure enough, she spotted Harry and Edward both sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. As she approached, she could see Harry's standard scowl on his face as he exchanged a few brief terse whispers with Edward. They stopped at once as she came closer. Bristling slightly, she sat down.

"What's up?" She asked the pair of them. Edward answered with one of his dazzling smiles, assuring her that nothing was the matter. She and Edward began discussing their mornings, Harry providing an occasional word here and there, but there was definitely tension in the air. Bella usually found herself able to talk to Edward comfortably, equally as easy as with Harry, but today there was a heavy tension hanging over them. The weight of what they were not discussing was compressing them from all sides. Bella could feel it suffocating them.

Finally the most uncomfortable lunch of her life came to an end at the sound of the bell. Edward gave her and Harry a knowing look before departing ahead of them for class. How had he known that she wanted to confront Harry alone?

Harry frowned at Edward's retreating form as though he knew what the Cullen was leaving him to deal with and he wasn't happy about it.

"Harry, I've had enough," Bella started bossily.

"Of what?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know perfectly well what. You know what the Cullens are, don't you," she said bluntly. It wasn't a question. "That's why you don't trust them."

"I talk to Cull– Edward just fine now," Harry defended.

"Please, you two barely exchange two sentences to each other all day. You may tolerate him better now, but you hardly trust him."

Harry frowned, all sense of pretence gone. "Look, Bella, all of this – it's got nothing to do with me, and even less to do with you." He stared at her hard. It wasn't unkind, just cautionary.

"I don't understand," she cried. "You take every chance you've got to tell me how you don't trust them, and now you're protecting them? What from? _Me_?"

"I suggest you let it go." He said in a tone that brooked no argument. He turned and walked to follow Edward to class.

"I won't let it go," she called after him which he ignored. "I'll figure it out and all your cryptic warnings won't stop me."

* * *

"I'm telling you, Doctor Cullen, I don't like it."

Harry was sat in the Doctor's office on yet another gloomy Wednesday afternoon. The roads were just as icy as the day last week when Bella almost died – ' _Because of me'_ – serving as a constant reminder of what had happened that day – ' _Because of me.'_ It was all very hard to avoid thinking about, something that Harry had been trying to do since that day.

The guilt had continued to eat away at him, and so when he had arrived home after seeing Bella in hospital, he had gone straight to the dresser in his bedroom and opened the bottom drawer where he kept the small remaining tokens of the life he had left behind. That evening was the first time – and the last, he swore – Harry broke his No More Magic pact, using the Elder Wand to repair his old Holly wand. A small part of him had been thrilled at the familiar feeling of his own wand in his hand, but he didn't let himself dwell on it. Since that day Harry had carried his old wand with him wherever he went, swearing to only use it if Bella's life were put at risk. Thankfully, so far, it hadn't.

"He means her no harm, Harry," Doctor Cullen soothed, "I wish you could see that."

"Really?" Harry asked, disbelievingly. "Have you seen the way he looks at her like she's his next meal? She probably will be," he muttered as an afterthought.

As much for Bella's sake as anything else, Harry had reduced some of his frostiness towards Edward Cullen, managing to tolerate his presence for short periods of time. Bella was right, though: he was still far from trusting the vampire. He did, however, appreciate the significant reduction in death stares the rest of the Cullens sent his way during school. One of the few benefits of keeping their secret, he supposed.

"Harry, my family do not harm humans. We only feed from animals, that is why –"

"– why your eyes are gold. Of course," he murmured. He had been wondering why their eyes were golden and not the bright red he knew were associated with those of their kind. "I've noticed that the others aren't too happy with Edward either." He wasn't blind; he had noticed the four remaining Cullens silently seething at Edward whenever he was with Bella.

Doctor Cullen sighed. "They believe he is making a mistake, one that he will regret. Edward has grown rather fond of Bella." It was the way he said these words that scared Harry.

He felt the colour drain from his face. "No way! No, not with a human! He can't do that to her!" How could Cullen even _think_ of it? Didn't he realise the danger Bella would be put into?

"Edward understands the risks of courting her. I trust him to know his own limits," Doctor Cullen calmly explained.

"There you go again throwing your trust around," Harry sneered. "Is he going to tell her what he is? Why am I keeping this secret if he's going to reveal it anyway?"

"He realises that he cannot practically keep this secret forever, though he wishes to keep Bella safe in the dark for as long as possible."

Harry scoffed. "Safe, right. She's hell bent on finding your secret out, it's only a matter of time before she does something dangerous to get herself killed!" He was seething. Doctor Cullen was watching Harry closely, a look of dawning realisation on his face.

"You care very much for Bella, don't you?" He didn't wait for a response. "I will admit I have wondered, as has Edward, whether you may harbour… stronger feelings for Bella than you have previously suggested?" Harry gave the man a few moments to laugh at his own joke, but he did not. Harry glared icily.

"It's selfish of me enough that I've made her my friend. I wouldn't subject her to the dangers of that sort of relationship, too." He spoke coldly but calmly. "She deserves more than that: a normal life. Something neither Edward nor I can give her."

"Do you not deserve one as well, Harry? Doesn't Edward?" Doctor Cullen beseeched. "You talk of anything that brings you happiness as selfish. Your words the other day concern me too – do you truly not see the worth of your life? Of your happiness?"

"But I am selfish," Harry replied. "Being Bella's friend is selfish. Talking and getting to know _you_ is selfish. Everyone I let close to me becomes a target who ends up either hunted or dead. I swore I wouldn't let that happen again, but I'm slipping, letting people in. I am a selfish man, Doctor, with death and destruction in my wake and in my future."

Doctor Cullen watched him sadly. "I understand these terrible things have happened to you in the past, Harry, but you are _safe_ here." He was pleading for Harry to understand. "The man who killed your parents is dead, you told me this. What else could be coming after you?"

Harry had told Doctor Cullen very little of his past; nothing of the war, or who else he had lost, or the terrible things Harry himself had done. During their meetings together they had mostly discussed the vampire's three hundred plus years on the earth. Although he refused to admit it, Harry had enjoyed listening to his adventures throughout Europe and the Americas. It had certainly given Harry a better understanding of the man in front of him and the reasons why he had formed such a strong bond to Harry.

The vampire had experienced centuries of loneliness, and it was his family that had brought him out of his eternal damnation and darkness. It was because of that Doctor Cullen swore by family as the sole healer of pain and sorrow. Time and time again the man had spoken to Harry of these beliefs. Some days this made Harry angry, by reminding him of what he had once had but lost so long ago. At other times Harry had felt himself wallowing in misery, yearning for the future that was now an impossibility. Most times, however, it was simply emptiness that Harry felt, his refusal to show weakness keeping him from breaking.

"That's what I've learned in my life, that there is always someone after me, wanting to cause me pain," he explained bitterly. "And so I've spent my life trying to make sure nobody else has to feel that pain, but I can't. I'm tired. I've already slipped since arriving here, and it's getting worse."

The Doctor frowned at him. "I don't understand you, Harry. Who have you hurt here?"

"Everyone!" He yelled. "Everyone I touch gets hurt. Bella was almost killed because of my self-righteousness last week. Her father lost days of sleep because of me when I arrived. Your family is constantly on high alert around me, never able to relax! You," he cried, pointing at Doctor Cullen's face, "have put your skills and time and care into me since I've been here. I've thrown it back in your face because _I don't care_ about any of it! I can't make myself care.

"I'm slowly tearing apart all these lives by being here, and I'm not doing anything to stop it! So tell me, Doctor, look me in the eyes and tell me I'm not selfish. Tell me that this town – heck, this world – wouldn't be better off without me!" He crumpled down into his chair, his shoulders shaking with emotion but his eyes remained dry. Funny how since ending the war he had only shed tears once while begging the man in front of him for death.

Harry felt firm, cold hands grip his shoulders tightly and guide him to look up into the Doctor's face. He could see the tears the vampire could never shed in his eyes.

"Harry," he began thickly, "I swear to you that you will never hear me say that anybody would be better off without you. What happened to Bella was _not_ your fault; that is what friends do, they fight and argue. I won't have you beating yourself up over what happened when she is safe and unharmed. My family has been on high alert, as you say, for one hundred years as we live among humans. That is a negative of our chosen lifestyle, but we would not change it.

"As for The Chief and myself, while I cannot truly speak on behalf of Charlie, the both of us care for you greatly. You have come a long way since you arrived, befriending Bella, and even beginning to trust me, but you still close yourself off from any emotion. We're all here to help you, Harry. Help me understand better." Harry stared morosely into the bright golden eyes of his doctor. He could see all the emotions that had previously been visible: compassion, kindness, _sadness_. It was, however, the emotion Harry refused to name that scared him the most and filled him with shame.

"Understand? You can't possibly begin to understand," he whispered. "Coming here, listening to your life each week I've learned what sort of a man you are, Doctor Cullen. You're kind, you never hurt others, and you protect your family from anything. Heck, you've never killed a man! You're _good,_ Carlisle, that's what I've learned. How can I ever deserve your lo– understanding if I can't be good like you?"

"Harry –"

"I've killed, Carlisle," he interrupted. The words were flowing now and Harry didn't think he could stop them if he wanted to. "Both directly and not, I have _murdered_ people. I have tortured people with agonising pain for nothing but my own pleasure, watched on as a classmate's blood soaked the floor from wounds _I gave them._ I have taken away people's freedom and controlled their minds to do my own bidding.

"You sit there looking at me like I'm some lost, scared little boy who with some coddling will turn out alright. That may have worked once, but recent years have changed me. If I had stayed home the only certainty is that I would have ended up behind bars, and I would have deserved it too. Do you _understand_ me better now, Doctor? Does it make you feel better knowing more about this _troubled little boy_?"

He was breathing heavily but his voice had never once risen above a whisper. It had felt liberating to admit to his crimes – satisfying to see the horror flash in Cullen's eyes. The saintly doctor, who was now watching Harry closely with eyes that were slowly emptying of emotion until only one remained. _Shame._

Suddenly Harry felt ill as though he were going to be violently sick. He needed air. Pushing himself away from the frozen vampire, he wrenched open the door and slammed it on his hurried escape. He didn't see behind him that not even the loud snap of the door had stirred the Doctor, still staring at the now empty space the boy had just vacated.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you again for all the kind reviews! It's so nice to hear what you all think. The recent chapters have been a bit shorter, I apologise. I've been inundated with university exams recently and writing has fallen down a notch on my To Do list. My primary goal has been for the chapters to still be of the same quality in terms of flow and of course grammar and everything, something I try really hard to keep to a high standard. So sorry again for the slightly shorter chapters! Hopefully my life will start flowing again soon!**


	28. Chapter 27

A cold and blustery morning greeted Bella on Saturday as she dragged herself out of her cosy bed and into the hot shower. The air quickly filled with steam as the cold bathroom air turned warm, the blood slowly returning to her extremities in the hot water. As Bella turned her face up to the shower head, her thoughts turned to the day ahead.

Being a Saturday, she and Harry would be having their usual weekend study session. Harry had come a long way since their first meeting. There were still times that Bella wondered if his school back home had actually taught him anything at all, but he was starting to pick up new concepts much quicker. A lot of it, Bella thought, was due to the recent changes in his attitude; the anger and the misery had both been detrimental to his concentration and motivation, but more recently Harry was brighter. He was still far from the carefree teenager he should be, but it was a positive start. Well, it _had_ been.

The last two days at school, Harry had retreated back into his shell. He stayed silent during their car trips and lunch times, not even providing his usual minimalistic responses. Edward had also been more quiet and reserved around Harry, and Bella hadn't seen the two conversing behind her back since Wednesday. Bella could only presume the behaviour of her two friends was related to Harry's latest meeting with Edward's father. Whatever it was the two had discussed had definitely stirred up some troubled emotions for Harry, and it was obviously the case that either Edward was privy to the discussions as well, or he simply sensed the unease within Harry and perhaps even his father.

' _Can I ask him about it?'_ She wondered as she turned the shower off and wrapped herself in her towel. She was his friend, wasn't she? That meant that she should be allowed to worry about him and ask how he's feeling. So why did it feel like that wasn't the approach to take? Bella had never felt more wrong footed around a friend than she did around Harry – Edward as well if she were being honest. Both of them held secrets, some of which she was sure had been shared between the two of them but were apparently all too personal to share with her. It hurt to think that they didn't trust her with their secrets, and so Bella had been trying her best to prove her reliability. She hadn't even mentioned the van incident since Wednesday.

Dressed in some of her warmest clothes, Bella headed downstairs to throw together a quick breakfast before heading out to pick up Harry. Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of coffee reading the paper. He looked up as she walked in.

"Morning, Bells," he said.

"Morning, Dad." Bella began to fix herself a cup of coffee too.

"You seeing Harry this morning?" Bella frowned. She decided Charlie shouldn't be allowed to sleep in so much; it made him _chatty_.

"Uh, yeah," she replied, sipping from her cup. "I'm going to pick him up in a little while."

Eyeing her carefully over the rim of his mug, Charlie took a long sip before setting it back down. "Why don't you two work over at his house today?" Charlie suggested mildly. Bella raised an eyebrow at him.

"Harry's passed your test then, has he?" She asked somewhat sarcastically. Harry had been wondering but refusing to ask when they would be allowed to relocate their sessions to his house. Bella suspected he felt guilty that Bella had to drive him everywhere.

Charlie sighed. "You know why I wanted him to come here to start with. He's getting much better from what little I can see of him," he said with slight bitterness. Harry had been avoiding Charlie like the plague, still annoyed at the man's strict rules that had been placed on him when he first arrived in Forks. "The kid's earned a bit of trust now, so I thought he'd want to be able to stay at home." He watched as Bella didn't respond. "If he doesn't want to –"

"No!" Bella cut in. "No, Harry will be happy to work at his place." Turning away from her father's lingering gaze, Bella began to slowly wash up her minimal breakfast dishes. She knew that look on Charlie, and it never meant anything good.

"You and Harry seem to get on well," he began awkwardly. "I don't have to, um, worry about –"

"Stop right there, Dad," Bella interrupted. "Please. You can keep your shotgun away from Harry. Promise." Giving him a pointed glare, she left the kitchen, grimacing.

As she gathered her books to take with her, it occurred to Bella that she had never thought of Harry in the way that Charlie was worried about. With Harry the way he was, she had never had any intention other than that of supporting him through whatever it was he was going through. There had never been room for any _romantic_ feelings, and Bella was quite sure that Harry felt the same way. He had certainly reacted poorly to advances from other classmates he'd received…most of them from Jessica.

All Bella had wanted was to give Harry someone he could feel comfortable around and talk to when he did finally decide to talk. It had seemed for a while that they may eventually come to that day together and Harry would confide in her what dark things from his past were haunting him. Now, however, with Harry closing himself off once more, Bella felt unsure whether he would ever trust her enough to allow her that close.

"I _can_ ask him what's wrong," she declared to her empty room. "I _will_ earn his trust."

Newly resolved, she grabbed the last of her things and headed out to the truck.

* * *

Bella knocked loudly on Harry's front door.

' _Really, for a place so large he needs a doorbell.'_

Despite the lack of a bell, she only had to wait a few short moments for the door to open. Harry stood in the doorway with his bag slung over his shoulder and a faraway expression on his face.

"Let's go then." He said, frowning slightly when he saw Bella's own bag of books.

"Actually," she began, "my dad said we could work at your place today. If you want to, that is," she hastened to add.

Harry continued to stare blankly at her, seeming to take several seconds for her words to compute. When they did, he gave a genuine smile that Bella hadn't seen for days.

"Really?" he asked excitedly. When Bella nodded his smile widened and he stepped aside for her to enter the house.

Bella had never been further than the entrance hall of Harry's house, and as she was now lead through the living room to the large sweeping staircase she struggled to keep her mouth closed out of amazement. She had always suspected that Harry must be very well off by the size of the house, but seeing the expensive furnishings held within confirmed her suspicions; Harry was loaded.

"I'll show you through to the study," he said, completely oblivious to Bella's gaping. He opened one of the many doors off the long corridor, entering a generously sized study. "It's a bit of a mess. I wasn't expecting anyone else to ever come in here."

Both side walls were covered by tall bookshelves, most of which were empty. A comfortable recliner sat in one corner, a spot that Bella immediately identified as a cosy place to read. The only real mess was on the large oak desk which sat underneath a wide window overlooking the expanse of trees behind the house. Notebooks and loose papers covered its surface revealing very little of the polished wood below.

Placing his bag upon one of the desk chairs, Harry headed back for the door. "Feel free to shove those things to the side. Want something to drink or a snack?"

Recovered from her initial amazement, Bella found her voice and replied, "No, thank-you, I just had breakfast." Muttering something about needing a cup of tea, Harry exited the room leaving Bella alone.

She deposited her things on the floor beside the desk and looked out the window. It was amazing just how secluded Harry was here; there was no possible way that anyone could see into his backyard without being on the property. A loud hooting noise startled her. Had that come from inside the house?

She wandered over to one of the bookshelves. One stark difference she had noticed between Harry's house and her own, apart from the incredible size, was the lack of photographs in the rooms. She had not seen one photo of his family, his friends, or even of somewhere that could be his old home. Bella's house was, mortifyingly, covered in photos from all stages of her life. Had Harry not gotten around to putting his up yet, or did he not want to?

But here on a large, bare bookshelf was a single photograph: the only one she had seen in the whole house. It showed a young man with Harry's glasses and unruly black hair sitting with a young, bright faced woman. Bella thought she recognised her eyes as Harry's. Was this what his eyes would look like if they sparkled with life? In her arms lay a tiny baby, no older than a few months. A tuft of jet black hair was visible, poking out from the cocoon of blankets. Bella smiled sadly at Harry's family. It had never seemed more real to her what he had lost.

Bella turned her attention to the desk; now that she was closer she was better able to see the various scraps and notes. Most of them were from school and Bella noticed some pages with notes from their first few sessions together. Piling those together neatly, she moved onto the notebooks. There were only a couple, as most of them were still in his bag to take to her house. She unzipped the top and reached in, pulling out the books and placing them on the desk. Biology, Algebra and Government were the biggest and the ones that they usually used during their sessions. They were definitely the classes Harry found most challenging. Bella piled them one by one onto the desk which was now relatively clear of mess. Now with his books stacked and loose sheets piled, there was a space that they would be able to use for work.

She sat down in the second chair to wait for Harry and looked back over her good work. From this angle, she could see something small poking out from behind the desk. Leaning over slightly, it appeared to be a small notebook that had gotten wedged between the desk and the wall. How it had fallen behind there Bella didn't know. She wrestled with it for a while before managing to extract it.

It was a small notebook that had clearly seen better days; the corners were all bent out of shape, and it looked suspiciously like it had drowned in a cup of tea at some point. Bella had never seen this book before, indicating it wasn't one of Harry's school books. The age of it and the way it was stuffed, forgotten, out of sight made Bella suspect it might be a notebook he used at his school in England. Curiosity piqued, she opened it.

Disappointingly, the book was empty. Bella continued to flick through every blank, tea-stained page hoping to find something interesting. Perhaps this book had been defaced like this before Harry had a chance to use it and so it had lain forgotten, falling down behind the desk. She was about to close the book and put it down, but the appearance of writing in the last few pages stopped her.

There were lots of words she didn't understand, and names she had never heard before. A list of words – _cruciatus, imperius, sectumsempra_ – were written in blood red ink with a smattering of other phrases like ' _left them to die'_ and ' _murdered her sons'._ Uneasiness building in her stomach, suddenly Bella didn't want to be reading this anymore. Something about the bright red ink and the shaky handwriting made this list feel like a written confession.

The next page was covered in two phrases written in that same blood red ink. _'I must not tell lies'_ was written dozens if not hundreds of times all over the page. Then, in smaller writing, squeezed into the margins and any gap available, the phrase _'I can only tell lies'_ written in the same ink. Bella felt sick. The ink almost looked like blood.

Unable to put it down, she turned the next page and found a very familiar list; Harry had tried to list what the Cullens had done wrong again after that meeting where Bella had demanded it from him and apparently hadn't been able to add anything else. Thankfully this was written in normal black ink.

The bottom half of the page had been ripped from the binding and folded up on itself. Flattening it out, Bella found yet another list. This one looked as though it had been edited most recently, with several lines crossed out or circled seemingly as Harry had gained more information. It was the heading of the list that confused Bella most.

 _Cullens – Vampires_

That had to be some kind of a code or a joke, didn't it? Harry obviously didn't actually _mean_ vampires because vampires didn't exist. And these other things that Harry had written – speed, strength, and cold hard skin – they were all just things that he thought a vampire should have, surely. Maybe Harry found it easier to hate the Cullens if he imagined them as evil beings. Bella noticed that he hadn't included any of the _actual_ traits of vampires – the burning in sunlight, fear of garlic and crosses, the stake through the heart. Were English vampire stories different?

Bella's eyes were drawn to her own name on the page.

 _Stealing Bella – trying to get closer to me? To kill me? To kill her?_

Bella frowned. Not liking them was one thing, but believing – fictitiously or otherwise – that the Cullens were murderers? Bella shivered as she remembered what Harry had written in that blood red ink about murder.

Scribbled in the corner she read, _'Golden eyes (not red) – don't drink from humans?'_ This last part was circled, and recently too, Bella thought.

Bella could feel something prickling in her mind as she read and re-read the page. The Cullens all had bright golden eyes. The _same_ eyes but none of them were related. They were never at school on the rare days of sunlight. Edward _never_ ate the cafeteria food. They all warmed slightly to Harry after he had denied anything strange during the van incident.

 _The van._

Bella let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh my god, they're vampires," she whispered.

"Sorry that took so long." Bella jumped at Harry's voice, throwing the notebook back onto the desk and trying to look innocent. "It took me almost five minutes to realise I hadn't turned the kettle on."

He walked over with a steaming cup of tea and several biscuits on a plate. He looked at her closely.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said. Bella knew she must have been incredibly pale.

Harry put down his morning tea and froze. His hand moved oh so slowly to the small, tea-stained notebook thrown roughly toward the wall, not sitting wedged behind the desk as he knew it ought to be. Bella's stomach plummeted.

"What have you done?" Harry's voice was soft. It shook slightly at the end of his question.

"I didn't mean – you mean it's true?" The chill from outside seemed to have seeped into the room through the closed window. A manic look suddenly appeared in Harry's eyes.

"What? The vampire rubbish, ha!" he cried. "They're not real, it's just a joke, Bella." He was panicking, Bella could hear it in his voice. She stood up to be at his eye level.

"Don't." She said. "Tell me, Harry, what is going on?"

He shook his head. "This is out of my hands. Come on. You're driving." He grabbed his coat off the chair and went to leave again.

"What? Where are we going?" She asked as she stumbled over the chairs to follow him.

"The vampires' house."

* * *

"He must return," she said. "The Wizarding World is facing terrible danger once more, I feel it."

The wizened old man in the portrait examined her carefully over his half-moon spectacles. "Alas, it is possible he may not wish to return, Minerva. The Wizarding World has not been kind to the boy of late."

"Be that as it may, it is still his world too, Albus," she replied.

"We must trust in Kingsley's decision in allowing him to leave."

"And look where that left Kingsley," she snapped. "I'm sorry, but we need his talents, Albus. We need Harry Potter to save us once again."


	29. Chapter 28

They drove in silence. The only words spoken were the brisk directions Harry gave to Bella. Carlisle had told him at one of their Wednesday chats how to find their house if he ever felt like coming over to introduce himself properly to the family. He had never gone, and thought he never would. He hadn't expected Bella to work things out quite like she had, though.

Harry wasn't entirely sure it wasn't his fault. He had been stupid enough to write down everything he had about them and then leave the book in a visible place. True he had hardly been expecting any guests in there and had he known they were to be moving their tutoring session to his house, Harry would have made sure it was properly hidden. He suspected it wouldn't matter what excuse he used, the Cullens would be angry and would take it out on him. Harry's stomach churned uneasily at the image of Carlisle's face that formed in his mind.

There was no other way to put it: Harry was scared to see the Doctor again. Every waking minute he could still see the look of horror and shame on the man's face when Harry had spilled all his darkest moments. Even in his sleep he couldn't escape the haunted look which had been burned into his mind's eye. Harry had sensed the return of the awkwardness between himself and Edward, proving to him that the supposed confidential meeting had been discussed between the two family members. Harry was disappointed the vampire couldn't keep his privacy and wondered what else the two had discussed about him.

"Turn off the road here," Harry said, pointing at a narrow entryway that would be unnoticeable to anyone who did not know of its existence. Bella didn't speak as she turned her truck off the road and onto the winding lane. She held the steering wheel very tightly; Harry could see her knuckles were white.

The noise of the rundown Chevy could be heard from miles away even without vampire hearing, leaving Harry no doubt that their arrival would already be known. He could imagine them preparing their human act, wondering why Harry had brought Bella with him to their house. He decided to save them the effort.

"Don't bother," he said at a normal volume as they pulled up in front of the large house. "She knows." He saw out of the corner of his eye Bella look at him uncertainly, but he did not turn. He got out of the truck, keeping his eyes on the front door which opened to reveal the man who would ultimately decide Harry's fate as the first to break their mutual secrecy.

"Bella. Harry," Carlisle greeted them. Harry thought Bella wouldn't know the man well enough to notice the slight hesitancy in his welcome. "Please, come in."

The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside. To any ordinary person, it would seem like a perfectly normal house, well-furnished and kept for a wealthy family. Knowing the truth of who lived here, Harry found himself slightly surprised. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting; certainly nothing this _normal._ He almost snorted when he saw the large crucifix hanging on the wall over the stairs. The humour died in his throat at the looks he was receiving from two of the Cullens; Jasper and Rosalie were fixing him with glares far more threatening than any he had received at school.

"I didn't say anything," he said to them both. "I swear it."

"He didn't," came the small voice of Bella's beside him. Harry could sense her unease. He could imagine how they must hear her heart pounding and smell her fear. Instinctively, Harry repositioned himself slightly to be more in front of Bella.

"We won't hurt you, Bella," Edward said kindly.

"You don't know that, Edward!" Rosalie snapped at him.

Harry sighed in irritation. "I had hoped we could skip this rubbish?"

"Which part was that?" Rosalie asked sarcastically. "You mean the part about how every person in this house right now could kill her without even trying?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort but he was interrupted.

"Why don't we all come in and sit down?" Carlisle, ever the peace maker, suggested. "Harry, and you as well Bella, haven't yet met my beautiful wife, Esme."

Beautiful hardly did the woman justice, Harry thought. The one person he had not recognised had eyes shining with love and happiness, two emotions that Harry didn't feel comfortable with these days.

"I've heard so much about you both, it's such a pleasure to meet you at last," she said sweetly. Harry nodded and gave an awkward smile. The last thing he needed right now was a reason to think the Cullens were all kind people.

They entered the sitting room, everyone taking a seat except for Harry and Edward, Harry by the door and Edward beside the window. Bella, feeling very awkward and intrusive, had to be encouraged to relax.

"So, Bella," Carlisle began, "may I enquire as to how you became aware of the… situation?"

Bella didn't respond. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times but no sound came out. She turned to Harry for help who kept his eyes on her as he spoke, still refusing to look at Carlisle.

"She found a book of mine that I usually keep hidden," he said matter-of-factly. "Inside it I write about all sorts of dark and terrible things. There is a page about all of you." Harry's voice was challenging, as though he dared one of the vampires to stand up for themselves.

"I see." Harry could feel the doctor's eyes on him. He knew they would be filled with his usual concern, but he couldn't bear to see more disappointment. "Then perhaps you know already, Bella, that my family and I do not harm humans."

Harry tried very hard to not scoff. He wasn't sure where this hostility was returning from. He looked at Bella who seemed to still be unsure if she was dreaming or whether this was real.

"Why did Harry know but I couldn't?" She asked. Harry frowned; of all the questions he had expected Bella to ask that had not been one of them.

No one seemed quite sure how to answer. Harry had known because he had exposure to the magical world, a past about which the Cullens still didn't know any details. He had never explained to Carlisle or Edward how he had known about vampires, choosing to remain silent whenever he was asked the question.

"No one told him, Bella," Edward said.

"I just have a vivid imagination," Harry said sarcastically. Bella turned to him to give her popular 'I don't believe you' frown. She opened her mouth to respond but she was interrupted.

 _CRACK_

Everyone in the room immediately jumped to their feet at the sudden gunshot-like noise from outside. Only Harry remained unmoved, as he had frozen in place out of fear. He glanced at Carlisle for the first time since arriving to find him staring back. Of course he was; he would recognise that noise too. He knew what it meant.

Someone like Harry had arrived.

"It's a woman," Edward said from his spot by the window. "She's here for Harry."

Harry however had already begun moving to the front door, opening it and storming into the yard. Anger had quickly replaced the fear, the blood now pumping in his ears as he glared at his old professor.

"Harry –"

"How did you find me?" His voice shook with barely supressed rage. "No one is supposed to be able to find me."

Professor McGonagall eyed him carefully. "Kingsley trusted me and me alone with the information should we need –"

"He had no right to do that," Harry seethed. "He promised me privacy. That I would be left alone." Was there anyone who valued his secrecy?

"Kingsley was murdered, Harry."

It was a blow like he had not felt for many weeks. While he had expressed bitterness toward Kingsley since settling in Forks, there was no denying he had helped Harry considerably. He had not argued when Harry wished to leave Britain. Instead he had set him up on the other side of the world where he could try to live in peace. And now he was dead. Another to add to the list. It took him a moment to realise McGonagall was talking again.

"You need to come home, Potter. I fear the wizarding world once more requires your assistance." Harry almost laughed. She had the gall to come halfway around the world and demand he return home?

"The wizarding world needs better taste," he said humourlessly.

The Professor was losing her patience. "Potter –"

"Tell me, Professor," Harry suddenly said very loudly. "Who is the wizarding world blaming for Kingsley's death, hmm?"

The Professor's mouth thinned but she stayed silent. That was all the answer Harry needed.

"Typical," he sneered. "I risk my life for them time and time again. I fight in their war. Destroy Voldemort for them. And just like always they turn their backs on me. You see, Professor, they've never deserved my help, so why the bloody hell should I risk my life for them again?"

"The people who matter know the truth, Harry, they –" Harry's neck snapped up.

"You said no one else knew where I was!"

"And they do not," the Professor replied calmly. "They know you left and understand your decision, but they are not aware of your current location." Harry pondered this. He knew exactly who she was talking about. There could only be one group of people left alive who might care about him. His blood became cold as he remembered he had caused the deaths of two of their sons.

Professor McGonagall took advantage of Harry's silence. "Harry, the Death Eaters are still at large and I have my suspicions about the new Minister, a Madame Prestwick." Harry's ears perked up at the name.

"Hold on," he said slowly. "Prestwick? But I know that name. She's the one who almost caught me at St Mungo's. She's got my invisibility cloak," he added bitterly. That still rankled with him.

The Professor nodded. "She is the one leading the public defamation of you. Undesirable Number One with a 10,000 galleon prize on your capture. I fear she is in cahoots with the remaining Death Eaters and is behind Kingsley's death. I believe once she came into possession of your cloak she realised that Kingsley was not, in fact, on her side and had aided your escape. She then had him murdered for treason," she finished, her voice tight.

Harry had stopped listening. The world had grown silent around him. He hadn't felt himself fall to his knees, didn't notice the damp seeping into his jeans from the frosty grass.

It had been _his_ fault. Again. All _his_ fault.

His hands fisted, rough fingernails pressing into his palms until he felt the skin break. He felt the pain. It helped bring him back again.

How many more would there be before he got the message? When would he stop allowing people in? It only brought them to their early deaths. How many more years of life would have been lived without his interference?

A small hand grasped his shoulder tightly. Instincts taking over he leapt sideways, brandishing his wand as he stumbled to his feet. As quickly as he had pulled it out, he felt his wand leave his hand as he was disarmed. This, finally, brought him fully back to his senses.

Professor McGonagall was standing only a short distance away with two wands in her hand: her own and Harry's. She was watching him through slightly misted eyes, worry etched into her lined face. Harry briefly thought she had never looked so frail.

"Understand this, Potter: it is not your fault Kingsley is dead. He knew the risks." She spoke slowly but forcefully as though determined for the words to penetrate Harry's mind. He didn't believe her; she had to say that, just like they always did. But there was something in her words that _did_ get to Harry, faint memories of how he once respected this woman. His old Head of House.

"Don't make me go back," he pleaded. "I can't do this anymore."

"We need your help, Harry. That woman is planning something bigger and innocent lives will be lost I am sure of it." There it was again; his _duty._ He could feel the anger returning.

" _Good._ Let them be lost!" He growled. "Let all those who frame me, who ridicule me, _die_! I owe them nothing, Professor, and they owe me everything. They've taken my friends, my home, my world. Good riddance, I say." His anger that he had been holding in was bubbling over. For weeks and weeks he had wanted to say these words, shout his hatred to the world.

"No one in Britain cares about what happens to me! All they want is someone who will abandon everything to come and save their pathetic lives. Where's the thanks? Where are the apologies? Everyone back there is dead to me. Magic is dead to me. My days of being a wizard are over. They can find themselves a new martyr."

Professor McGonagall stood there, face growing steadily paler and clutching her chest. "I know you do not mean those things, Potter. You are angry, I understand –"

"Except you don't!" He shouted. "Clearly you don't! If you did, you would already be gone! You wouldn't have come in the first place!" He levelled his gaze, putting as much emphasis on his next words as possible. "The Harry Potter you once knew is dead. You need to realise that."

The Professor's mouth became so thin at these words that Harry just about lost sight of it. His wand was tossed to him, landing at his feet. He didn't pick it up.

"I am sorry that that Harry Potter is dead. But I am sorrier that I had to meet with the man who has replaced him." She pulled an old quill from her robes and tapped it with her wand. It glowed blue. "I hope you understand what you are doing. Consorting with vampires could be unwise." And with a bright blue flash, she was gone.

Harry could still feel his pulse thumping in his head. He wanted to run, he had to get away and end things once and for all. If people were still going to be able to find him, then he had to make sure he could never be found again, permanently. McGonagall's words spiralled in his head. _'I hope you understand what you are doing.'_ He did now. It was clearer to him what he had to do than it had ever been before. _'Consorting with vampires could be unwise.'_

Consorting with –

Harry's heart skipped several beats. In his rage he had forgotten where he was and who was in the house behind him. He turned around to find all of them, plus Bella, standing on the front porch watching him closely. Several emotions stared back at him: confusion, panic, amazement. _Fear._ Carlisle at the front. _Disappointment._

"Harry –"

Harry stumbled backwards, scrabbling at the ground for his wand but refusing to break eye contact. He knew there was only one way to get out of his situation, and unfortunately that would mean using magic. Grasping his wand tightly, he thought clearly of his bedroom in Forks.

"No! Don't let him –" he didn't wait to hear the rest of Edward's warning to the others. He had no time to hang around, vampires moved too quickly. As it was, the last thing he saw as he turned on the spot was four shapes blurring towards him –

– and then he was in his bedroom, blissfully alone.

Harry collapsed on the floor against the side of his bed. He didn't suspect he had very long until someone came to look for him, but he was too exhausted to move. He needed to make a plan. The most obvious option was to leave before anyone else could come looking for him. With any luck he would be able to get away before he could impact the lives of anyone here any further and put them in any more danger than he already had.

Where could he go, though? He didn't know anyone in this country who didn't live in Forks. The only other place he had been was Seattle, but he didn't know if he liked the idea of a big city. He also didn't feel that was far enough away from the vampires who could easily track him if they wanted to, he was sure.

The only solution was to live the life Kingsley had tried to help him avoid. Endlessly roaming looking over his shoulder for those who would chase him. Only now he also had a pack of vampires to contend with.

Harry looked around his oversized bedroom. He would miss this house. While it had been far too large, sometimes feeling empty and cold, there were rooms in which he had felt at home. This was one of those rooms that he had always felt safe in, but something had taken that feeling from him now. When he initially apparated, he had assumed it was just the threat of the wizarding world bearing down upon him, but he knew now it wasn't that.

Someone had been inside his bedroom.

Standing up quickly, he was amazed he had missed it initially. There were drawers pulled open and clothes hanging out of them. His bathroom door was wide open and he could see the cabinets in there had also been ransacked. He suspected if he went looking around the rest of the house he would find similar scenes.

" _Homenum revelio._ "

Nothing happened, telling him whoever had been here was gone. He wasn't overly worried. He had very few valuables in the house, and those items would look completely useless to any burglar. Common thieves would be more interested in monetary value. Still, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to check.

Harry raced down the hallway to the study to search for the little notebook that had started today's problems. He was thankful to see it still on the desk where they had left it. He pocketed it and returned to his bedroom.

The only other place he kept anything important was in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He opened the drawer and his heart immediately sank; while the drawer had been closed, it had obviously been searched thoroughly. The small beaded bag was still in place, as was his moleskin pouch full of small bits and pieces. Both of these he pocketed as well. Everything else in the drawer he pulled out, still looking for the one other, perhaps most important, item he kept in there.

When the drawer was empty, he panicked but refused to admit defeat. Pulling out every other drawer, he threw them to the ground, clothes soon covering the carpet. When they were all empty, he moved to his beside drawers, the bathroom cabinets, even looking under the bed. He tried summoning it, but nothing zoomed into the room.

Harry crumpled to the floor, panting. It was gone. The most important thing in his possession, and they had taken it.

The Elder Wand was gone.

 **––––––––––––** **END PART TWO** **––––––––––––**


	30. Chapter 29

**––––––––––––PART THREE––––––––––––**

It was a blustery afternoon, many years ago, deep in the north of England when they were born. Two girls – fraternal twins. The parents could not be more proud of the two healthy bundles of joy with whom they would finally begin to share their lives. While they would not be identical twins, the parents knew they would love each daughter just the same. Nothing could tear apart their happy family.

* * *

The quiet home of a young couple became the lively house of a small family. The girls' first birthday was a simple family affair. The parents and grandparents had sung 'Happy Birthday' whilst the girls clapped and giggled. Everyone had ended up with more cake on themselves than in their mouths. Once the girls began to slump in their high-chairs, the evening came to an end.

"Good night, our sweethearts," their parents cooed. Their first year as a family had been perfect. The family slept that night, dreaming of the many more perfect years to come.

* * *

As the girls grew older, they were inseparable. Matching clothes, matching toys, matching everything. Even at kindergarten they always preferred each other's company over the other children. But they were happy, and so no one tried to force them to change. Most nights their parents would say good night in their separate beds, only to find them both curled up asleep together in the morning. The girls were happy and so were their parents. Their happiness only grew with the years.

* * *

It was in school where the strange things began occurring. Messages would come home from teachers, detailing instances of mysterious behaviour surrounding the twins. On one occasion when the girls were six, the letter had described the girls tying up two boys in their class with a skipping rope. When their parents had questioned them about it, the girls insisted they had been playing with the rope until the boys stole it, and that the rope moved on its own, wrapping itself around the boys' legs. Nobody believed them.

At the age of seven, the girls' parents were called into the school for a meeting. The girls were sitting quietly, covered from head to toe in paint. The teacher told their parents all about their art class and how they had thrown paint all over poor Joey Daley, making the boy cry. On the way home, the girls begged their parents to believe them that Joey Daley had poured paint all over their drawings on purpose. It wasn't their fault that the paint pots tossed themselves at him, while their drawings mysteriously cleared. But still nobody believed them.

This continued on for them both until the girls were nine when one of them was sick and needed to stay home. The other had begged their parents to let her stay home too, but they would not let her. "You need to learn to play with the other girls and boys too," they said, and so they shuffled her off to school.

The girl was miserable. Without her sister she had no friends at all. Two girls came and asked her to play with them at play time. While they were running around, the girl felt a heavy blow on her back and fell to the dirt. Loud laughter echoed around her; Ricky Thornhill, an older boy, had thrown a ball at her to make her fall down. Everybody in the playground was watching and laughing. Angry and upset, she reached out to the ball to throw it back at him, but before she could get near it, the ball flew at an incredible speed hitting Ricky in the stomach. As he fell to the ground, everyone in the playground began to scream, running to get as far away from the girl as possible.

Nobody believed her story. Except for her sister.

"What's wrong with me?" Her sister just hugged her.

From that day on, their classmates refused to do anything with either of the girls. Their parents were at a loss as to how their two beautiful, sweet girls could get in so much trouble. They were in different classes at age ten, forcing them to interact with others. Neither of the girls were happy with this as most of the other students still would not talk to them. However, once they were separated, the differences between the two became apparent.

One of the girls – coincidently the one who had been sick that one day – never had any problems in class. Not once did the teacher have to write home or speak to her at the end of the day about her behaviour. She was, as her parents had insisted all along, a sweet little girl.

Despite being twins, her sister continued to have more and more instances of misbehaviour and even bullying reported against her. She had cried to her parents and her teachers, begging them to believe that she wasn't bad, and that these things just seemed to happen without her doing anything at all.

Only her sister believed her.

She did not know how many tears she had shed whilst being held by her sister, the only person who ever listened to her stories. Her sister had been there with her when this had happened during their younger years together. She knew the truth.

Her parents still treated them just the same. They had sworn they would always love their two daughters equally. "She's just struggling without her sister," they would say. "She'll settle down in a month or two," they would tell themselves.

But despite their endless love, there were cracks appearing in the happy family.

* * *

On the girls' eleventh birthday, they had no party. The girls never had a party because they never had anybody to invite. The happier girl, she had friends, but she didn't want to have a party when her sister didn't have anyone of her own to invite. So she had declined the party offered by her parents and had insisted it just be the four of them.

It was mid-morning when the knock at the door came. Their father answered it, only to come face to face with a stern looking woman. Her hair was tied up in a very tight bun, and she peered at their father over the top of her glasses. What was most bizarre about this woman, was her attire; she was dressed in deep emerald robes, with a crooked hat perched upon her head.

"Good morning," the woman had said. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall and I am a teacher at Hogwarts School. Might I come in?" And without waiting for a response she had marched past their father and into the living room where the girls and their mother were seated surrounded by wrapping paper and presents. They all gaped up at the woman.

The Professor had begun by saying that what she had to tell them would likely be difficult to believe but she guaranteed its truth.

And so she told them all about Magic.

The lonely girl's eyes widened as the Professor spoke.

"Is that why these things keep happening around me?" She asked. "Am I magic?"

"You certainly are. I have here with me a letter inviting you to our school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." And she handed over the parchment envelope. Sure enough, in emerald green ink was the girl's name.

"But what about me?" Asked her sister.

"I'm afraid it is only one of you who has magic, child," the Professor said comfortingly.

"But she is my twin," the magical girl insisted. "We're the same!"

The Professor shook her head sadly. "Fraternal but not identical, I'm sorry to say. This can happen."

After the Professor left, the magical girl begged her sister to not hate her for being different. She could not help being magical; it had already made her lose any chance of friends at school, and she didn't want to lose her sister too. But she just received the usual response for when she was upset: her sister hugged her.

"I don't hate you. I'm so happy you can make new friends with people like you! You'll always be my sister first."

For the first time in many years, both girls went to sleep that night happy. But in their parents' room, doubt and fear had crept under the door. "How could this happen to us?" They asked each other. "What does this mean for our family?" They wondered.

Untended to, cracks become fissures. And so the cracks began to deepen in the happy family.

* * *

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The magical girl sat down with her new housemates, face beaming in excitement. She and her sister had looked through all her books before she came to school, and they had both held her wand in amazement. Only she could feel the magical tingle in her fingers as she held it. She couldn't wait to learn magic.

Her parents had shown interest as well, but the girl knew they weren't as excited as her sister was for her. They would miss her terribly, they had told her on the station platform with a faraway look in their eyes. Her sister had hugged her fiercely and cried, telling her to make lots of wonderful friends but to still write every day. The magical girl had laughed through her own tears. "I could never forget you, silly."

Her first year at Hogwarts went smoothly. She was one of the brightest students, topping most of her classes. Her favourite and best subject was Charms. She had many friends in her house, but formed particularly close bonds with three other girls in her year. Like she had been with her sister, the four were inseparable.

She stayed at school over Christmas, her parents sending a letter to tell her they would not be at home for the holidays. The girl didn't mind in the end; she had a wonderful time playing in the snow in the castle grounds with her friends. And the feast had been amazing.

Something the girl was unsure of was the minimal letters she had received from home. She addressed them all to her family, but only ever received written replies from her parents. She had not once had anything from her sister. She frequently got upset; had her sister really been angry all along?

Upon arrival at platform 9¾ at the end of the year, the girl was confused to find no one to collect her. As the platform began to empty, and still neither of her parents arrived, the girl grew worried. A stout woman in a long coat approached her, asked her name and handed her a letter. It was from her parents.

 _Dear Darling Daughter,_

 _As you have surely worked out, we are not there to pick you up from school. This is because we, that is your parents and sister, have moved away. We are sorry, but we do not feel that we can care for both you and your sister equally with your new found lifestyle._

 _Know that we will love you forever, and that we have done this for your own safety and benefit._

 _Love always,_

 _Ma and Da._

The girl had cried all the way to the orphanage, owned by the woman who gave her the letter. She cried every day that summer. She did not leave her bedroom.

And so the fissures settled, and the happy family was no more.

* * *

It was a different girl who arrived at Hogwarts in her second year. Her close friendships from her first year disintegrated. Her grades dropped to 'Merely passable'. The sweet little Hufflepuff no longer fit with her housemates, and steadily she became an outcast just like in her Muggle schooling. Only this time, she did not have her sister to comfort her.

The Professors were concerned. How did such a bright first year return with a broken soul as bad as this? Their comfort and help were refused by the girl. She was learning fast that the easiest way to get through life was alone.

She found herself spending more time alone, or even with Slytherin girls of her year, finding more in common with them than anyone in Hufflepuff. They understood what she was feeling. They didn't try to comfort her, but they could relate.

In a moment of weakness she sent an owl with a letter addressed directly to her sister. Despite their promise of love, she had not received any contact from her family since the beginning of summer. She did not know where they had gone, and did not have any hopes of receiving a response. She regretted sending it at once.

Months passed and no reply came. The letter slipped from her memories.

The girl knew it would take more than a letter to fill in the chasm separating her family.

* * *

It was a dull morning part way through her fourth year when the girl received her first piece of mail since first year. It was from her sister.

 _Dear sister,_

 _I have only responded to your letter now, nearly two years after because I was angry, and I hope you can understand why, and also why I am so sorry._

 _I am so terribly excited to hear from you, but I am very confused. It was very shortly after you went to school that our parents packed our bags and swept me away with them. We have never returned home since then. Nothing was explained to me very well at all. Our parents told me that we had to leave you because you were a danger to us, that you would turn your magic against us._

 _I knew that our mother and father must have been lying. You would never hurt us, and I told them this every day. I cried so many times, but they refused to listen. I never knew that you had been writing. Mother and father never showed me the letters, even though I asked every day. I was angry at you. I thought you had forgotten me despite your promise. I am sorry that I doubted you._

 _As you wished I have not told our parents that you wrote. I understand your anger with them, and now that I know what they did to you, I am angry as well. We have not been as close as we were before. How did this happen to our family?_

 _Write again soon, sister. I miss you dearly every day._

 _Love,_

 _Your sister._

Since then, the girls continued their correspondence, repairing the relationship that time and anger had destroyed. As they wrote, their bitterness towards their parents grew, as did their resentment towards Muggles. It was their fear of the unknown that had caused her parents to abandon her. How dare they take her life from her?

Finding her sister had been the best thing to happen to her, the girl thought. Now she knew exactly what to do with her future.

* * *

"When do your plans progress from here, Minister?" Yaxley's head asked from the fireplace.

"All in good time, my dear," she soothed. "The next step cannot be done at our end, but in time it will set in motion the final days."

Yaxley smiled, showing his pristine white teeth. "Very good, Minister. I eagerly anticipate your news." With a 'pop' his head vanished, the flames returning to quiet embers once more.

She stood up and went over to the window, looking out over the artificial London scene. It was dark.

Minister Prestwick had thought back on her childhood many times over the past few years. She had despised her parents for a long time now for what they had done to her when she was only twelve. Her mother and father had already paid their price for abandoning her on that platform all those years ago. Prestwick smiled at the memory.

The years in the orphanage had been hard, especially that first summer. She had spent most of the time in tears, too miserable to try making friends. Her parents had taken the world from under her feet and she had returned to Hogwarts for her second year as an empty shell, only the eventual correspondence with her sister two years later showing her the way forwards.

Her years straight out of Hogwarts had been equally difficult. With only average results in her NEWTs, she had entered the Ministry at the very bottom. She had worked harder than she ever had before to get herself into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement around the same time the Dark Lord had fallen the first time. After the first war she had stagnated for many years. Then He had returned and everything changed.

Now here she was, sitting in the Minister's office. _Her_ office. She looked around the room, marvelling at what it signified – remembering the death that had removed her predecessor. Tragic, wasting such magical ability, but necessary. Quite necessary.

Her thoughts strayed to Harry Potter as they frequently did these days. It amused her to no end knowing that he was the prime suspect in Shacklebolt's death. Now the boy was on the run from the law, the whole wizarding world convinced he would be the next Dark Lord, while she, along with her sister, was pulling all the strings. The boy had no idea what he was up against, and wouldn't learn of its truth until the very end.

Prestwick smiled, the happiest she had been since the age of twelve.


	31. Chapter 30

' _Damnit kid. You weren't supposed to run away again.'_

They had all thought things were improving for Harry. Charlie certainly had. That's why he had allowed Harry and Bella to move their tutoring sessions to the boy's house. Carlisle had mentioned that while he was still concerned about the kid, he was definitely opening up more, and the doctor thought it was only a matter of time before Harry would trust him properly. Had it been wishful thinking?

Charlie had been pleased with how well Harry had been doing with Bella. He still hadn't exactly been chatty with Charlie, but it was obvious that he'd warmed up to Bella and considered her a friend. No matter what the boy had believed, Charlie had only ever wanted Harry to find his place in Forks and have a normal life; there had obviously been a lot of negativity in his past and it was important for him to move forward as best he could. Now, despite Harry having been in Forks for a few months, Charlie didn't know if they'd moved things too quickly.

Had it been a mistake to give Harry more independence? This had been the first time Charlie had not insisted on the boy's presence at their house for his sessions with Bella. And now he was gone. Again.

Three days had passed since Harry's disappearance. History repeating, Charlie had found no sign of the boy. They hadn't even been able to get into his house. Whenever they had tried to get near the building, he and his fellow officers had turned around again with the sudden thought that they were forgetting something important. It did not matter how or when they approached it, even thinking forcibly that they had nothing to race off to do, every time they were effectively turned away, as though the house was fighting back.

No one had ever seen anything like it. He had called Carlisle to see if he had been to Harry's house since the boy vanished, but Charlie had not even been able to speak to the man. His son, Edward, had answered the man's phone on his behalf, claiming his father was 'under the weather at present and taking time off work'. Edward had volunteered to come have a look at the house, and while he had more success in that he didn't suddenly remember a non-existent doctor's appointment, he could only get halfway down the driveway before a sudden and severe pain would shoot through his body. Charlie had watched the boy collapse to the ground in agony, having to pull him away himself so the boy could stand. They had looked at each other in worry and confusion. What had Harry done?

Hating to admit it, Charlie knew he was way out of his depth.

* * *

Bella sat at the cafeteria table, eating her lunch without tasting it. She was surrounded by noise, but even the endless chatter of Jessica could not pierce her thoughts. She knew what the noise was about; the school had only spoken of one thing since Monday.

Harry Potter was missing.

Somehow this event had sparked the realisation that Harry had been the patient who escaped from the hospital earlier in the year, and Forks being the small high school that it is, every student knew this by the end of the day. Bella didn't know who had worked it out; she knew she and the Cullens had said nothing. Bella had not said much at all since Harry had left.

She was angry. And she was confused. But most of all she was worried. Where had Harry gone? Was he safe? Were there people like him who were after him? People like the Cullens?

After Harry had disappeared right in front of her eyes that day, Bella had left very quickly after. Edward had stressed upon her the importance of keeping their secret as well as Harry's. She wasn't stupid. Who would believe her anyway? Carlisle had then asked her to not go after Harry. Had he known, then, that Harry was going to run away? If he did, why hadn't he stopped him?

Instead she had gone by Harry's house the next day, to find the place deserted. No one answered her knocking, and Bella had suspected he was just hiding from her. It wasn't until he hadn't turned up to school the next day that the police became involved. When Charlie had told her how no one could get close to Harry's house, she felt uncomfortable. Was this something Harry had done to keep people away? And if so, why had she been allowed to get close?

"Did you know from the start? Bella?" The sound of her name brought her out of her stupor. Angela was speaking, and all of the others were watching her closely.

"Sorry?" Bella asked.

"Did you know that Harry was the guy who escaped the hospital?" Jessica butted in.

"Oh, um," she stammered. What was the point in lying? "Yeah, I did actually. He didn't like talking about it," she added, pre-empting their next question.

"How come you don't talk to Cullen anymore?" That was Mike. So they had noticed.

Bella hadn't sat with Edward at lunch since Harry disappeared a few days ago. She had barely spoken to him in Biology or the hallways either, preferring to think about what had transpired over the weekend on her own.

Truth be told, she didn't know what to think. She knew the story now about why Harry didn't trust the Cullens and frankly, Bella couldn't blame him. Weren't vampires always depicted as forms of evil in fiction? But this wasn't fiction, she had to remind herself. This was _real_ and there actually _were_ vampires in her town, at least one of whom had actually been kind to her. In fact, he had saved her life.

Was it that easy then? To ignore what her instincts were telling her of their danger, and instead to trust them? Her head swam trying to make sense of it all. She wished Harry were here.

Though what she had learned of Harry was equally terrifying.

A wizard. An actual, real wizard, with a magic wand and everything. She had thought the whole thing was a joke until she saw that woman wave her magic wand causing Harry's to fly out of his hand. Then she had disappeared in a flash of blue light. Then _Harry_ had disappeared with a sound like a gunshot.

Now wizards were depicted differently in fiction. Was Harry the Gandalf, or the Saruman? Her instincts again told her that he was the Good wizard. But she had heard the words Harry had spoken to that woman before he ran away. Did he really wish for the deaths of all those people?

Bella couldn't believe it, but either way she still worried for Harry, and wished he would return.

* * *

The days that had passed since Harry's disappearance had taken their toll on the Cullen family. As Edward ran through the trees, no real destination in mind, he thought about the boy who had changed their lives more than anyone had anticipated.

Harry was magical, both figuratively and literally. It had been an eye-opening experience hearing the conversation between Harry and the woman. That had been the most anyone had ever heard Harry say about himself, and it had rendered them all speechless. Everything that Harry had said or done, and everything Edward had seen, suddenly made sense – Harry was a wizard.

Edward felt he had taken the news rather well. The initial shock had worn off and been replaced with intense curiosity and worry about Harry. Nobody knew where he had gone and none of them had found any trace of him surrounding Forks. He had covered his tracks well. It was also concerning that Harry had managed to keep anybody from approaching his house. Obviously he had anticipated people searching the house, and suspected the Cullens would use what they could to try to find him. But he had been one step ahead of them. They had lost him.

The rest of his family had taken the news in different ways. His siblings also were concerned about where Harry could have gone, in Rosalie's case more worried again that he would tell others of their secret. Esme was fitful with worry, not just for Harry but also for Carlisle who had not been the same since Harry's departure.

Carlisle had not left his office once since Saturday afternoon when his honorary fourth son had vanished. It was now Wednesday and still he had not surfaced, not even to hunt. The man was in a state of shock. Not even Edward was entirely sure what was going on in Carlisle's mind. He could not distinguish the individual thoughts racing around in his father's head. The glimpses he caught were of the faded memories of Carlisle's childhood and his own father. The same father who had hunted witches.

Edward stopped running and took in the sounds around him. The forest was alive and he could hear it all. Every animal – their footfalls, their breathing. The groan of every tree branch. The rustle of every leaf. He took in a long, slow breath, though his lungs needed none of the air he drew in. Despite the noise of the forest, his mind was quiet, something it had not been in many days. He basked in the peace.

The house had become tense. Jasper had been struggling with the emotions of everybody – Carlisle especially – and had been unable to prevent the amplification of worry seeping through every room. Alice's visions were fluctuating, sometimes there and sometimes not, but never seeing Harry. Whatever was happening to the boy they had no way of knowing, and it was slowly tearing them all apart.

Bella had also become closed off, though not to the extent of Carlisle. At least Bella still came to school – spoke to people when spoken to. She had not spoken to Edward of her own volition, something which hurt him more than he cared to admit to anybody. He understood she was worried about Harry, and likely was confused about Edward's own family and their secret. He was not disappointed that she had found out, but it hurt that she hadn't spoken to him since.

Edward's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Alice.

 _Feel free to stay there a while. I'll let you know if we need you._

He smiled. Jumping into a tree, he made himself comfortable and let his mind wander. It came to rest on his father and Harry, taking away some of the peace that had settled upon him. He wished, for everyone's sake, that Harry would return soon. There were many stones left unturned, and without resolution, the Cullens would likely not be the same again.

* * *

Was there an emotion that described the feeling of 360 years of belief crashing around you? Did such a word exist whose definition labelled the foundation of your upbringing and very existence a lie? Carlisle did not know if any word or emotion existed, but these were his feelings. And he was drowning.

How had he not seen it? Was three centuries what it took to blind someone from the teachings of their childhood? Harry Potter was a wizard. He had magical powers. He used a wand. The woman who had confronted him had been like him too. A witch.

Carlisle's mind whirled back to the raids that his father had lead in the dark streets of London – the raids _he_ had lead when his father became too ill to continue.

" _It is time for you to take your place, son," his father had said. "Time for you to perform your duty as the pastor's boy."_

" _I cannot, father," Carlisle implored. "It is not right, killing innocent people for these sick games of yours."_

" _Impertinence! My duty has been to rid the world of demons and sin, a job that befalls onto you."_

" _I will not –"_

 _His father had struck him then, hard, across the face._

" _You do not disobey, boy," his father growled. "Let you remember what happens to sinners in the Father's eye."_

Carlisle had very few memories left of his human life. Some, such as this night, had stuck with him. He thought it had not been the first time, nor was it the last time a hand had been raised to him. He had crumpled at his father's wishes. From that night on, he had led the raids. Still, Carlisle had rejected his father's beliefs for many years, only leading the raids out of duty. He had still not believed in the dark and vile creatures they had searched for, not until the night he was bitten. Even then his mind only opened to the existence of vampires. Never in his dreams had he believed in witches.

Had his father been right, then? Had witches roamed their streets spreading mayhem and mischief? Evil and sin was what his father had sworn they were ridding the world of. The raids had brought deaths. Had they been witches? Or had they been ordinary people? Wasn't it equally repulsive either way?

Carlisle and his father had lived in London. Carlisle knew about many other famous witch trials around the world, Salem perhaps the most famous. What about those people? Had anyone executed actually committed any crimes, witch or not?

If he had not known it impossible for vampires to be ill, Carlisle would have sworn he was nauseous with guilt. He had been the leader of raids that had led to people's deaths, as had his father, a concept that Carlisle had just about come to terms with over the past three centuries. While he could never truly be forgiven for what he had done and the remorse he felt would never leave him, Carlisle had learned how to live. But now every ounce of guilt had resurfaced as he had learned of this reality.

Witches and Wizards were real – people like Harry – and he had hunted and killed them.

 _People like Harry._

There was surely nothing now that could save him from damnation. Harry had reopened his eyes to the mistakes of his human life and the misbeliefs of his vampiric existence. He knew what his father would say; that they had done the right thing, purging the world of these demons. Being what he was and having met Harry, knowing and understanding the good that could exist in such people, he truly did know now that his father had been wrong. But had Carlisle known, then, of the existence of these people, he likely would have agreed with his father.

How could Carlisle ever forgive himself for sending those people to their deaths? How could he ever look Harry in the eye again, knowing he had hunted people like him, purely because they were different? Whether they had been real witches or not did not matter. The intent had been there and the executions had been performed.

Swirling in memories, Carlisle didn't know whether he could face Harry returning.

* * *

He was alone. Alone was good. Wasn't it? Alone was safe. No one could find him and no one could get hurt by being with him. Alone was how it had to be.

Why did it hurt so much?

There was nothing left for him to do. He had run away, the coward he was, and now he had to face the consequences. It didn't make it any easier, but it reminded him he had no choice.

The misery that had been sitting inside him the past five days had not changed. It had seeped from the cold air into his pores, chilling his insides. His mind was frosted. His heart icy. His breathing slowed to an imperceptible rate, misting around him. The crackling of the warm fire beside him had no effect on his soul.

He knew he couldn't hold on to his sanity for much longer. The wall he had built up around his emotions and his past was weakening. It was only a matter of time before the dam broke.

In the months since that day, he had not mourned. He had run out of fear and shame, never looking back because he dare not see what he had created. The despair and misery that he had caused so many people was finally piling up on him. His weary bones would not take it for very much longer. The cold and the loneliness would win in the end, just like they always did.

God he was lonely.

Had he already forgotten what it meant to be surrounded by friends? The roaring fire beside him could never fill in that hole. Had it really been only a few months since he had sat by similar fires whilst hunting for Horcruxes with –

A sharp intake of breath.

One choked sob.

There was nothing he could do to stop the two bright smiling faces from flashing in his mind as the walls he built finally gave their last.

Spiralling downwards, dry sobs wracked his body.

He cried for the friends he had lost and the memories that would never be made. He wept for those who had become his family and loved him as he had never remembered being loved before. He sobbed for the past he would never forget and the future he could never create.

More than anything, his cries were for the infant who had lost everything before he had even known he had it. The child who would grow up without being loved – who would discover the most wonderful family and create the most loyal of friends only to have it taken from him. The man with the cursed life.

And Harry Potter wept for himself.


	32. Chapter 31

When Harry opened his eyes the next morning he felt lighter. He was in no sense healed – there was still darkness pressing on his heart – but he could breathe easier. The emptiness he had been carrying with him had been replaced by pain, but it was a good pain that reminded him he was still alive. Perhaps, at last, he could finally begin to heal.

He had not deluded himself into thinking that all was well. There was still the threat of the whole Wizarding World after his head. Not to mention there was a coven of vampires and a small American town searching for him. It also didn't help that he was on the run, living in a tent, hiding at a muggle campsite.

What Harry hated the most about being on his own, was the lack of distraction from his thoughts. He had tried his best not to think about everything that was happening outside of his little campsite, but it was impossible. There was no ignoring the reality that he would one day have to face, but he didn't know how to confront it either.

He knew that something needed to be done for the Wizarding World. If what McGonagall said was true, there were people once again in danger. This Prestwick woman was growing to be a real problem, and having the invisibility cloak would only make her job easier. Harry didn't know what this woman had against him; she had never even met him before their run-in at St Mungo's. Would there ever be a day where someone didn't want him dead?

Harry didn't want to go back. It was that simple. He had made the choice to leave with the intention of never going back, at least for the foreseeable future. The remaining members of the Order could surely deal with Prestwick and her cronies. In Harry's opinion it was unfair that they kept relying on him to get them out of trouble. Needing a seventeen year old to solve their problems was embarrassing.

' _Wait,'_ he thought, _'eighteen year old.'_ He had completely ignored his eighteenth birthday in July.

Harry could hear voices outside of the tent. Other people in the campground were starting to rise. Harry decided it was probably time to follow suit. Gathering his few bathroom items together, Harry crawled out of the tent into the crisp morning air.

After he had realised the Elder wand was missing, Harry had quickly regathered his thoughts. Stealing the wand meant one thing: someone was going to try to kill him. He was sure no one in Forks knew who he really was, except now the Cullens and Bella, but someone from the town had stolen the wand. His house was no longer safe. He had quickly gathered essentials and taken them with him in his rucksack along with the beaded bag which also still held the tent he had taken from his early days in Forks. The muggle repelling wards he placed around his house would hopefully keep the police and others from snooping around, at least for long enough that would let him get far away. He added a little extra ward he had picked up that he thought should keep the Cullens out too.

After that he had disapparated. And disapparated. And disapparated again. Never slowing, he would appear somewhere new, eye a place in the distance, and continue running. It hadn't taken him long to exhaust himself. Having supressed his magic for so long it had been far more taxing on his energy than apparating should have been. He had managed to use enough distance and other spells to make sure no one would be able to follow his tracks or even his scent. After a time he had stumbled across this campsite, filled with normal people he could hide among. That had been five days ago. Now, he was cold and alone, but he was free. Free of Forks. Free of high school. Free of expectations.

But he couldn't be free of those eyes.

Whenever Harry tried to sleep, he saw the last expression that had been on Carlisle's face when he left. The disappointment had been clear, and Harry knew it had been targeted at him. He couldn't work out when the doctor's acceptance had become so important to him, but Harry realised now that he couldn't bear the thought of having lost it. It had taken him a long time, but eventually he had realised that the man had always been trying to help. Giving up his Wednesday afternoons to put up with Harry at his most difficult would have been testing. And just like all good things in his life, Harry had to go and destroy it. Carlisle hadn't deserved to have Harry's extensive failures and horrific wrongdoings thrown in his face. It had been a moment of weakness and frustration that Harry had opened up about his inner darkness. How could he have thought a good man like Carlisle would be able to look at him again afterwards?

"Hey Mister!" A high pitched voice pulled Harry from his misery. "Can we share that tap?" A small boy of maybe five or six holding an empty bucket stood beside him, his bright eyes looking up at Harry from beneath his flaming red hair. He was struggling to hold the bucket due to the oversized sleeves of his jumper.

' _Red hair, and hand-me down robes? You must be a –'_

"Yeah, sure." Cutting off his mind's wandering, Harry shifted to allow the boy access to the tap.

"Why do you look so sad?" The boy asked.

"I'm not sad," Harry defended. The boy's head tilted as his bucket slowly filled.

"You look sad to me. Where's your Mommy and Daddy?"

"Haven't got any of them," Harry replied, smiling sadly.

"Where are your friends?" The boy frowned.

"Have none of those either." To Harry's great surprise, the boy laughed.

"Everyone has friends, silly!" He continued to laugh as he struggled to turn off the tap – his bucket was now overflowing. Harry helped him turn it. "I bet you have loads of friends who all care about you. Right?"

Harry's thoughts initially went to Carlisle. But did he still care? What about Bella? Or Edward? Had discovering what he was taken them away from him?

"I'm not really sure anymore," he said quietly.

"Why? Did you do something bad?" The boy whispered. Harry shrugged.

"Don't know. Kind of, I guess."

"So? If I'm bad, Mommy and Daddy still care about me. That's what people _do_ if they care about you properly _,_ " he rolled his eyes dramatically. "You need to learn more about friends, I think." He groaned in effort as he tried to pick up the bucket, which must have weighed several kilograms now with all the water.

"Maybe I do," Harry mused. "Here," he picked up the bucket, "show me where we're taking this bucket." And together they began trudging back to the boy's tent.

"See, one time," the boy continued, seemingly happy to have someone to talk to, "I didn't clean my room like Mommy asked and she got real mad." He was bouncing with every step he took, free of the heavy bucket that was starting to make Harry's arm ache. "She didn't let me play with my new toys all day, but I said sorry and she still let me have my hot cocoa after dinner." He finished with a broad grin, looking proud of his story as though it had proven his point. Harry, panting from exertion, tried to smile back at him.

He wished it were that simple for him. Unfortunately not cleaning your bedroom was a rather menial crime compared to the dark magic Harry had performed. It would take more than a 'Sorry' to make up for what he had done. He didn't know what he had to do to make up for it all.

At last they made it to the boy's tent where a frantic looking man with the same flaming hair as the boy was waiting.

"Daddy!" The boy cried, running towards his father.

"Sprout!" The man said, scooping the young boy into his arms. "I thought I said we'd go get the water _together_. You couldn't carry the bucket by yourself."

"That's why the man helped me, Daddy!" he laughed, pointing at Harry. "I was teaching him about what friends are." The man gave Harry an exasperated but amused look.

"Thanks for the hand, son. What's your name?"

"Harry," he answered, seeing no reason to lie. An ordinary Muggle American wasn't going to report him anywhere.

"Dennis." He shook Harry's hand firmly.

"Harry says he has no friends, Daddy!" the boy cried sadly. Harry flushed in embarrassment. "But I told him that everybody has friends even if we do bad stuff!"

"Sprout," Dennis chastised. He looked apologetically at Harry. "Sorry about him."

Harry grinned awkwardly. Dennis put his son down and told him to go into the tent to find his mother. Instead, he launched himself at Harry, wrapping his small arms around the older boy's waist.

"Thanks Harry! I hope you find your friends soon!" As suddenly as they had wrapped him up, the arms were gone and the boy ran into his family's tent.

Harry looked back at Dennis who was watching him closely. Harry shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"You okay, son?" he asked, a concerned frown on his face.

"Yeah," Harry answered automatically. Dennis didn't look like he believed him, and he didn't say anything for a time. Finally, when Harry was about to break the awkward silence and say goodbye, the man spoke.

"I always say listen to what your brain says, then do what your heart says." And with that, he nodded once at Harry, and walked back into his tent, leaving Harry blinking in the morning frost.

* * *

Edward stood with his forehead pressed against the door in front of him. It was Carlisle's home office door, the same door behind which his father had been hiding since Harry's disappearance one week earlier.

Carlisle had not surfaced once in the past seven days. Not even the worried calls of Esme had managed to bring him out of his daze. With the silence from the room, it would have been conceivable that the man had run away, but a quiet, gentle breathing could be heard, reassuring them to his presence.

"Carlisle," Edward tried again, "please, you need to stop this."

The door was locked. Of course it would not have taken any one of them any effort to open the door, but the rule of the house had always been that a locked door should be respected. Edward knew that before long he or someone else in the family would break that code. They were all worried about Carlisle.

There was no response, of course. Edward tried to focus solely on Carlisle's thoughts, but they were worryingly blank. It was as though the man was not thinking at all, or else shielding himself somehow. There were only two people that Edward knew who could block him that completely though, and Carlisle was not one of them.

"We'll find Harry, Carlisle. I promise." They had each been making this promise every day. "Harry will come back. He trusts you too much to leave for good."

Suddenly Edward hissed in pain. It was as though his words had unlocked something in Carlisle's thoughts and noise exploded in his head. Edward's knees buckled under the intensity of thought after thought racing through his mind, each one more terrible than the last. Shame and guilt were paramount in his memories. Edward could scarcely breathe.

He was only vaguely aware of the office door opening in front of him. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him up until he was staring directly into the black eyes of his father.

"Come with me, Edward."

And Carlisle ran.

Dragging himself to his feet, Edward sprinted out the front door after him leaving his confused family in his wake. For what seemed like hours Carlisle ran, Edward chasing behind dodging trees left right and centre. Deep into the forest they ran, until they were several dozens of miles from Forks when Carlisle came to an abrupt halt.

Edward stopped twenty paces behind him, watching the other vampire with wariness. He suspected that Carlisle had run so far partly to let off his pent up energy, but also because what he wanted to talk about needed privacy. And so Edward waited, watching his father very closely.

When Carlisle finally turned around, Edward could see the extent of what his week in exile had done to the man. Gone were the bright golden eyes, replaced by pits of black, accentuated by deep, dark shadows beneath them. His normally perfect hair was bedraggled, uncombed and having lost its shine. Edward stared at him in worry and in awe. This had been brought on by one young man.

"He cannot trust me, Edward." The whispered words carried easily in the dense forest. "He must not."

"Why?"

He received no answer. Edward watched on as Carlisle looked around himself at the trees.

"Can you truly not see why?" His father asked him, still looking at the canopy of leaves above.

"Your thoughts have been scattered, Carlisle. I've not been able to follow them," he admitted. "I kept seeing your father." Carlisle winced. They generally spoke very little of Carlisle's human life, mainly due to there being very little Carlisle could remember of it. But some memories had stuck, none of them pleasant.

"Yes, Edward, exactly," Carlisle beseeched. "Do you not understand? Have you forgotten the sort of man my father was? What he did?" His voice dropped off. "What _I_ did?"

"The raids." Edward whispered, comprehension dawning.

Because it did suddenly make sense to Edward. Carlisle's guilt. The constant thoughts of his human life. Carlisle and his father had hunted vampires in London. But they had also hunted witches.

They had hunted people like Harry.

"Carlisle, that was over three centuries ago," Edward offered. He would not let this destroy his father's resolve. "The world was a different place."

"The world is the same place it has always been, Edward," Carlisle argued. "It is merely attitudes that have shifted."

"Exactly! People don't hunt witches anymore. It was all well before Harry's time." Had his father been letting this eat at his sanity for seven days?

Carlisle shook his head. "You think that matters? These were people like him. Innocent people, scorned for being different. And we hunted them like sport." He gave a humourless chuckle. "For more than three hundred years, Edward, I have let myself believe that the only beast we were hunting was vampires. _That_ I had come to terms with. The rest I had accepted were innocent humans and us hunting them was a sin for which I will never repent. Now I know that there were real witches and wizards too, living in society. People like Harry. And we hunted them, too.

"I can no longer live under the illusion that witches did not exist. That it were only vampires we hunted and killed. How can I possibly look Harry in the eye with that in my past?" The pain in his father's eyes weakened Edward. He had not seen him so broken in all the years of knowing him, and he didn't know how to help him.

"Harry would under–"

"Would he?" Carlisle asked bitterly, striding forwards. "You know how vulnerable Harry is. How strongly his emotions affect him. Do you think he could just accept what I've done?"

This time it was Edward's turn to shake his head. "Harry respects you. That much is obvious."

"No," Carlisle said. "He fears me."

Edward frowned in confusion. His father went on, "Did you not see him when he came with Bella? He could not look at me, not after… and you think he would cope with this news?"

Edward didn't respond. In Carlisle's thoughts last Wednesday night, Edward had been able to hear what had transpired in Harry's weekly meeting with the man. Edward would have been lying if he said that what Harry had confessed hadn't concerned him. Adding those revelations to Harry's departing words, wishing those he left back home were dead, made an alarming tale a disturbing one.

In the days between that meeting and Harry's departure, Edward had unconsciously distanced himself from the English boy again. He knew Harry had noticed too, which frankly made the situation worse. They'd never had time to explain Edward's or the others' gifts. He hoped that Harry hadn't left thinking that Carlisle had betrayed his trust and revealed his secrets.

"You can't help Harry's past," he said after a long while of silence.

"I know that."

"Then don't dwell on it," Edward stressed. "Let him come back and tell him about your own. He will listen."

Edward knew he wasn't getting through. Carlisle simply shook his head, looking down at the ground forlornly.

"Let me be, Edward. I should hunt," he said submissively. He turned, ready to dash into the trees. "If Harry returns, so be it. But I should not have the right to take any further part in his life."

And he sprinted into the green, leaving Edward standing in his dust.

* * *

The lights were off, the walls lit only by the glowing of the screens surrounding her. The only sound was the hum of machines working, but she still listened carefully at the door. The hallway was quiet.

She was alone.

She worked quickly, not confident she would have any more than a few minutes. She hacked the software easily, searching through weeks of data, looking for what wasn't there.

Finding what she needed, she downloaded it. Saved it.

They thought they had wiped it, that no one would be able to find the evidence. On the screen in front of her, the file that had been buried deep in the dark recesses of the hard drive, she watched as the bespectacled boy vanished into thin air in his hospital room, screaming.

"This will bring your downfall, Harry Potter. You and Wizardkind."

Her face glowing in the screen light, she grinned.


	33. Chapter 32

Edward felt, as a rule, that it was not uncommon for him to be annoyed with at least one member of his family at any one time. Alice for example, despite being physically older than Edward, had taken on the role of annoying little sister admirably. An ever present bundle of energy, added with her knack for showing him visions at inappropriate times, Alice was a frequent source of irritation. Then there was Emmett. Edward could hardly come up with a day in the past sixty-odd years that his brother had _not_ annoyed him in some regard. Hundreds if not thousands of times Edward had questioned whether Emmett's special gift wasn't his ability to aggravate him with the least effort required.

Rosalie was a special case. She and Edward clashed on most opinions; it was laughable now that Carlisle had once thought her to be a good match for Edward. Her main irritating habit these days was her blatant dislike and cold treatment of Bella and Harry. Edward was rapidly growing tired of her continuous iciness toward the pair, but he knew Rosalie had always been jealous of humans.

Jasper was generally the least annoying of his siblings. The most reserved of the group, he normally kept any conflict to himself. That wasn't to say he didn't have his own special ways of riling Edward up; an unexpected blast of emotion – his favourite being waves of desire during class – was enough to throw Edward for an entire day. In his own way, Jasper had the ability to be the most annoying of them all.

Despite each of their misgivings, Edward still loved his siblings dearly. There had been few times over the decades where they ever spent prolonged periods of time apart, but when they had it had always been with warmth and joy that they reunited. They were their strongest as a family, not just in power but in love too, and they couldn't have been as close without their adoptive parents.

As anyone locked forever in the age of teen angst and rebellion would attest, there had undoubtedly been moments in which Esme and Carlisle had irritated him. It had always been out of pettiness, however, and when he had calmed down Edward had always seen that neither of them had done anything wrong. It was probably something he would never quite grow out of, but Esme and Carlisle were always waiting to accept his apology on the other side.

This time was different though, and Edward knew it. This time he was annoyed with Carlisle, and Edward knew he had every right to be so. It had been two days since Carlisle had finally resurfaced, and while the man had not retreated back into his study, he had not changed his opinions either. Whenever Edward tried to reason with him and suggest that he was being ridiculous about Harry, he steadfastly refused to listen. He was adamant that his past proved he was undeserving of Harry's trust and nothing Edward said could change his mind.

Now it was Monday, the start of the second school week without Harry. Carlisle had returned to work this morning, Edward wondering how well he would be able to mask his emotions from his colleagues. Meanwhile at school, Edward had still not been able to speak with Bella. He hoped that the weekend away from school and the constant reminders of Harry's absence had given her time to think. Because today he needed her.

Edward had a plan. He didn't care what Carlisle said; he was going to find Harry whether he liked it or not, and he needed the help of the boy's closest friend in Forks. He knew they would not be able to force him to return, but Edward needed him to know that he was accepted no matter what. He knew that Bella had forgiven Harry, her sadness being that of losing a friend rather than being hurt and betrayed. He still, however, had no real indication of how Bella felt about the Cullens.

As he sat next to her in Biology that afternoon, he hoped that the curious looks she had been sending his family's way at the end of last week were a suggestion that she did not plan to entirely abandon them. He hoped she could understand the dangers, but also appreciate that none of them would ever intentionally hurt her. He also prayed that he had not read her wrong, and that she too would do anything to find Harry.

"Bella," he began cautiously as the bell rang to signal the end of class.

Bella turned to look at him, clearly unsure of what to do. At least she hadn't run yet.

"May I speak with you?" He realised he was nervous. How human of him. "About Harry?"

Upon hearing that name, Bella's eyes widened.

"You know where he is?!" she whispered pleadingly.

"No, I don't," he said sadly. "None of us do. But I have a plan to find him, and I think it might just work." He could tell she was still unsure. "Can we talk somewhere? I want to answer the questions I know you have for me."

She nodded twice and turned to walk out of the classroom. Edward followed, taking the lead slightly to direct her to a part of the school he knew would be secluded. When he turned back to look at her, he was slightly hurt by the distance she kept and the wariness in her eyes.

"I would never hurt you, Bella. I promise," he said earnestly. He needed her to believe him.

"I know that," she replied. She paused. "Thank-you."

"You're welcome." But Bella shook her head.

"Not for that. For getting in the way of the van. I never thanked you properly because I was so annoyed you wouldn't tell me how you did it." She smiled her embarrassed smile.

Edward smiled back. "You're welcome," he repeated. And just like that, the iciness melted.

"Do you really think you know how to get Harry back?" Edward's frozen heart warmed at her concern for her friend.

"I do," he confirmed. "But we need to get into his house. I don't know if Charlie told you…"

"About the invisible barriers around the house stopping anyone from getting close? He did. Harry thought of everything." She frowned. "Does it affect you guys too?"

Edward grimaced remembering the pain that had lanced through his body that day with the Chief. It had felt like pure electricity coursing through his limbs. If Charlie hadn't dragged him out, he wouldn't have been able to move himself. Emmett and Alice had returned with him later that evening to test it for themselves. They approached much more cautiously, one hand extended. Both of them had experienced the same electricity shoot down their arms.

"It seems Harry added a special protection against vampires. We can't approach the house either." He stopped in thought, watching the trees in the distance. How were they ever going to get close enough for Edward's plan to work?

"I wonder why _I_ could walk up to the door without trouble," he heard Bella whisper to herself. Edward's head snapped around to look at her.

"You did _what_?" he demanded. Bella looked at him, startled.

"The day after he left I went to his house. I knocked on the front door but of course he was long gone and nobody answered. Charlie told me the next day about how the police couldn't get near it," she explained, frowning in thought. "I hadn't really thought about it, but those protections would have been up from when Harry left wouldn't they? So –"

"– how did you get past them?" He finished her question. Had Harry purposefully allowed his friend access to his house? Edward wouldn't have thought so. He doubted Harry would have wanted _anyone_ to be able to snoop around.

Edward watched Bella closely as she thought hard. Not for the first time, he wished he knew what was going on in her mind.

He froze.

"In her… mind," he whispered, eyes wide in surprise. Bella raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" she asked.

Edward smiled broadly at her confused look. He felt like laughing. It was so obvious to him now.

"I know how we can get into his house."

Bella gasped. "How?"

He grinned at her. "I think it's time you came and properly met my family."

* * *

Edward turned the Volvo off the main road onto the winding track that lead through the dense trees to his family's house. Bella was sat in the passenger side looking tense. He couldn't blame her; both of them remembered well what had happened the last time she came here.

His siblings had left school before them, and so were already home. Carlisle too had returned from the hospital, told to take it easy after his " _prolonged illness_ ". Edward was unsure how Carlisle would react to his plan to find Harry. Well, he knew he wouldn't like it. He just didn't know how much he would express his real thoughts if Bella were there.

They pulled up in front of the house. Edward got out and flashed around to open Bella's door. She gasped in shock, effectively reminding Edward that she had only had the barest of exposures to any of their proper abilities. He sniggered good-naturedly as Bella got out of the car.

Esme was at the front door to welcome them home. She was particularly excited to see Bella. She embraced the girl in a motherly way, unlike Alice who ran in at top speed and started spinning Bella around in her arms.

"Bella!" She squealed. "We're going to be amazing friends, I know it!" Edward noticed Bella turning an alarming shade of green.

"I think you should put her down, Alice," he laughed. "I don't think Bella's stomach can take much more of your friendship just now." Bella staggered as she was placed back onto her feet, Alice guiding her through into the living room. Edward shook his head in amusement. Alice's joy was infectious, helped by Jasper who surfaced smiling for the first time in over a week at the sound of his wife's happiness. It was nice hear laughter in their house once more.

Edward stood back, watching the rest of his family trickle down into the living room. He could hear Alice talking to Bella at top speed, insisting that once Harry is found they must go shopping together. Carlisle was the last to come into the entrance hall, the same uncertainty on his face that had been present since Saturday. Edward was at least pleased to hear that Carlisle's thoughts were pleasant, as he too was affected by the family's happiness. The emotion did not reach Carlisle's eyes, which despite returning to their soft golden colour still lacked the warmth and brightness that was normally there.

"I haven't told Bella about your negativity because it would hurt her," he said softly. Carlisle didn't turn. "Hear me out first. That's all I ask." And without waiting for a response, he walked in ahead of his father.

Emmett was lifting furniture, thrilled at having someone to show off his strength to, and Edward watched on, smiling, as Bella's jaw dropped in amazement. This was just what his family needed, he thought. Sure Rosalie was being Rosalie, and they were still helping Carlisle win the battle against himself, but the others were smiling and laughing at Emmett and Bella. For a moment they could forget about the darkness that had plagued their home the past week and be reminded what it was like to live again.

"What's the story then? Who are you, really?" Bella asked the room as a whole but she looked at Edward as she spoke.

"It all started with Carlisle," Edward began, as he launched into the history of the Cullens. He only spoke of Carlisle's and his own changing in detail, leaving the others the choice in how much of their past they shared. In the end only Rosalie didn't elaborate, and Edward was pleased Bella knew enough of his sister to not ask her directly.

"And now you move from state to state, redoing high school?" She asked in bewilderment. "Doesn't that ever get dull?"

"Sometimes we play a bit with the ages, but it's difficult to stray too far from the late teens and early twenties," Alice explained. "We haven't worked out yet where we'll go after Forks. Maybe somewhere north of the border."

Bella sat, pondering all she had heard. Edward was silently impressed with how well she was handling it all. Perhaps the week to herself had been what she'd needed. Or perhaps she was just far stronger than any of them had given her credit for. Edward was leaning toward the latter.

"What was it earlier you were saying about someone's mind, Edward?" Bella asked. His family grinned and turned to look at Edward. He sighed; his siblings had never relented about the fact his gift had been stopped by an ordinary human girl.

"Some of us have what we call gifts," he began. "Namely Alice, Jasper, and myself." Bella frowned.

"What kind of gifts?"

"I can sense and, to an extent, control emotions," Jasper explained before filling the room with a sudden wave of joy. Being human and unused to Jasper's abilities, Bella was the most affected, laughing hysterically until Jasper calmed her down again.

"Wow," she said, still giggling slightly.

"I get visions of the future. Not about Harry, before you ask. I'm sorry Bella," Alice added, genuinely upset still by her gift's failings.

"Is it because he's a w–wizard?" She stuttered slightly as she mentioned Harry's abilities for what Edward knew would have been the first time in real conversation.

"We suspect so," Edward said. "None of our gifts work on him very well. Jasper's does a little, but not properly." He looked Bella directly in the eye as he said his next words. "I can read minds, Bella."

Her reaction was comical. Her hands immediately went to clutch her head and she snapped her eyes shut as though they were the window into her mind. Edward had to try very hard not to laugh at her.

"Relax, Bella. I can't read your mind either," he said kindly, but he couldn't help a slight bitterness lace his words. It still irritated him after all.

Bella slowly opened one of her eyes, not removing her hands from her head. "Really?" She asked, clearly not believing him.

"Really. It's horribly frustrating I'm not ashamed to admit." He smiled at her, trying to put her at ease. She did at least lower her hands and look back at him with both eyes open.

"And you think that's why I could approach Harry's house? Somehow his protections don't affect me because of… whatever's wrong with me." At this, Edward did laugh.

"We tell you that we can see the future and read minds, and you think there's something wrong with _you_?" Bella smiled, embarrassed, as the Cullens laughed.

"What's this plan of yours, Edward?" It was the first words Carlisle had spoken all afternoon. He had been watching the whole affair from the doorway, never settling himself down with the rest of them. Edward could see Bella look at her former doctor in concern, as though wondering what had happened to the gentle and cheerful man who had treated her.

"It's very simple," he said, looking directly at his father. "Bella, being unaffected by Harry's protections thanks to her mental block, goes into his house to find his owl. We then tell the owl to find Harry and we follow it."

Edward could hear Bella murmuring in confusion, as were his siblings. Being the only person knowing exactly what Edward was talking about, Carlisle frowned. He knew the plan would work and he didn't like it.

"How do you know Artemis is even still in the boy's house?" Carlisle asked Edward. "She probably flew away when there was no one to feed her."

"I could hear her flying around inside when Charlie and I tried to approach the house." He wasn't going to let Carlisle find any flaws in this plan. It had to work.

Edward had heard quite a bit about Harry's owl from Carlisle. His pet seemed to be one of the very few things Harry was happy to talk about himself. He had told Carlisle about Artemis and how she was a special owl who would always know where to find people, and knowing enough, then, of how special Harry was himself, Carlisle hadn't doubted it for a second.

"Harry has an owl?" Bella asked from behind him. He turned to look at her.

"Yes. Harry's told Carlisle before that she can find anyone you tell her to. My bet is she's somehow magical like her owner. If we find her in his house and send her off to find Harry, we could easily follow where she goes." Edward watched the excitement grow in Bella's eyes and he knew that she would help him.

' _This is a bad idea, Edward. You can't force the boy to return.'_

"And we won't," Edward promised without turning around. Bella looked at him in confusion, not realising he was answering his father's thoughts. "But we need to give him the choice and tell him that he's still accepted here." Now he did turn to look at Carlisle again. "By everyone."

' _He deserves to go his own way if he chooses.'_

Edward growled but tried to keep it as soft as possible; he didn't want to frighten Bella. Carlisle was infuriating him. He could read his father's thoughts; Edward knew he was worried about what might have happened to Harry but was letting his own guilt block his real emotions. Carlisle would always accept Harry and wanted him to come back, Edward knew that. It was just a matter of convincing Carlisle he would be able to face the boy when he did.

"We'll discuss this later," he murmured to Carlisle, who closed his eyes and winced as though in pain.

Edward heard acceptance of his plan in a majority of the minds of his family around him. Rosalie was still adamant Harry shouldn't return, but she equally was still unimpressed at Bella being at their house in the first place. Carlisle's thoughts were of his inner turmoil, neither able to agree nor fully disagree with the plan. Edward turned back to face Bella who was watching him with concern. He gave her a tight smile and she relaxed slightly.

"Well then," he said to her. "Let's go owl hunting."

* * *

They pulled up in front of Harry's house, the gate firmly locked by the police in an attempt to keep people away. It wasn't until halfway up the drive that Edward had collapsed in pain last time, and so he helped Bella hoist herself up and over the fence, following by leaping ten feet in the air and clearing it easily.

"Someone could be looking out their window, you know," Bella scolded with a grin on her face.

Edward grinned back. "Makes the risk more fun, don't you think?"

They strolled towards the house, Edward coming to a stop a couple of feet before where he knew the invisible barrier to be. Bella turned around when he stopped, looking at him uncertainly.

"You'll be fine," he reassured her. "I can't come any closer than this. If you need me when you're inside, call me. I'll be able to hear you from out here but you won't hear me." She nodded and kept walking. Edward watched as she took a deep breath and stepped over where the protection line sat. Nothing happened. They'd been right.

Bella strode confidently towards the house. Edward watched her rummage through the plant beside the door, pulling out a shiny silver key. Clearly Harry had not expected anyone to be able to get so close. Bella stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

His cell phone rang in his pocket.

" _Okay, I'm in_ ," Bella said needlessly.

"Yes, I did see that part," Edward teased. "From what I can tell she's upstairs asleep. She could be very weak not having access to food. Take up some water and maybe scope out the kitchen, see if there's anything an owl would eat."

" _What, you think Harry kept dead mice in his pantry?"_ She joked. Edward could hear her opening cupboards and drawers. " _Well, I've got water but I can't see any… hang on –"_ More rummaging. _"Owl treats. That sounds promising."_

Edward heard her pour out some small pellets of food before she began making her way upstairs.

" _What if it attacks me?"_

"Like I said, she'll quite possibly be a bit weak. But I also think she's quite intelligent. Just approach her slowly showing the food and tell her you're a friend of Harry's."

" _You want me to talk to the owl?"_ Bella asked disbelievingly.

"Of course," Edward replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "People talk to pets all the time."

Edward listened as Bella opened door after door upstairs.

" _Edward, I'm not so sure about this,"_ she sounded scared again. Edward sighed.

"Bella, I promise it won't attack you. If it does I'll give you a hundred dollars."

" _Not the damn owl, Edward!"_ she hissed. _"Harry's house. It looks like someone was in here. There's drawers pulled out everywhere like they were searching for something."_

Edward frowned. No one could have been in since Harry left. There was no one else with a mental block like Bella in Forks, he was sure.

"Harry must have done that before he left. No one can get in remember. He was probably looking for things to take to make his quick getaway." While that made the most sense, it still didn't sit entirely right with Edward.

Bella didn't respond, but her even breathing and continued searching told Edward she accepted his explanation. Suddenly there was a sharp intake of breath.

"What?" Edward demanded.

" _I found her, oh she's gorgeous, Edward!"_ Bella gushed softly. _"I think she's asleep."_

"Just take it nice and easy, Bella, you can do this." He encouraged.

" _Artemis,"_ Bella cooed. _"Hey Artemis, do you want some food? I'm Bella, Harry's friend."_ Edward could hear the bird hooting dolefully. _"Well, she's eating."_ A pause. _"That notebook of Harry's is gone. The one where he wrote about you lot. He must have taken it with him."_ That didn't surprise Edward. Since hearing about the book he had been concerned about the other sorts of things Harry might have written about. It didn't feel right to pry and ask Bella.

" _Wow,"_ Bella whispered. _"It moves!"_

"Bella what are you talking about, what moves?" Unable to see where she was, Edward had no clue what Bella was looking at.

" _It's a photograph of Harry with his parents, but the people in it are moving! They were still when I was in here before."_ Edward still didn't really know what she was talking about.

"Uh huh, how's Artemis going?"

" _She's perked up a bit. Hey,"_ she called gently. _"Artemis, we need you to go find Harry for us. Can you do that? Oh my god a bird just nodded at me, this is so weird!"_ Edward smirked.

"So she's good to go?" If the owl was going to leave straight away, Edward would have to follow immediately.

" _I think so. Shall I bring her outside?"_ Bella suddenly screamed.

"What happened?!" Edward had to stop himself from racing into the pain barrier.

" _Sorry! She just flew onto my shoulder, scared the hell out of me!"_ Edward sighed in relief.

"Okay, just bring her down." He hung up the phone and waited. A few short moments later, the front door opened again to reveal Bella with her new friend.

"Aw, I think she likes you," Edward teased as she came back outside the protections.

"Okay Artemis, off you go. Go and find Harry." Bella gasped again as the owl suddenly took flight. Edward kept a close eye as she flew.

"I'll call Alice to come drive you home. Here," he handed her the Volvo key. "Give that to Alice when she gets here. I'll let you know as soon as I find him. Promise."

"Good luck," Bella said.

"Hah! Following an owl across country to find a lost wizard?" Edward grinned. "What could possibly go wrong?"


	34. Chapter 33

Harry's head bounced painfully against the window as the taxi sped down the potholed road. He'd given up on apparating after finding that it took far too much energy out of him. After a day of vanishing again and again through the countryside, Harry would then sleep for almost twenty hours the next night. It didn't help that he never had enough food either. He was in a constant state of exhaustion and hunger, a feeling not foreign to him, but at least now with using transport he wasn't always exhausted.

After meeting the Muggle family, Harry had left the campsite that very afternoon. He told himself that he only left because he didn't think he should stay in any one place for longer than necessary, but that wasn't really the case. He had previously decided he would spend another two nights at the camp to allow himself a better recovery from his initial bout of apparition, but he brought it forwards anyway. No, the truth was that the advice the man Dennis had given him had scared him.

 _Listen to what your brain says, then do what your heart says._

With no one to talk to, the man's words had rolled around in Harry's head since leaving the campsite over a week ago. What did his brain say? _Run_ , had been the paramount thought in his head. Get yourself as far away from Forks as possible and stay away from Britain too. And that's what he was doing. He was listening to his brain. He had barely rested since listening to his brain, but that wasn't what the advice had told him to do.

 _Do what your heart says._

But what was his heart telling him to do? Whenever Harry tried to think about it he only felt the horrific emotions he had been bottling up for so long. The pain and the loss were still raw after having been ignored since the final Battle, and trying to decipher what they were telling him to do was impossible. His thoughts dwelled on his two best friends, and he knew what he _should_ do. There was not a day that went past that Harry did not remember the promise he had whispered at St Mungo's, but he couldn't, not yet. It was too soon – too raw.

And so that was the conclusion he had reached. His Gryffindor bravery which had led him into battle against Voldemort, sent him hunting Horcruxes, had failed when it came time to face his emotions. So Harry had done what any coward would do: he kept running.

Leaving the camp, he had found his way onto a night bus that took him further and further west. He had no idea where it was taking him, and only paid vague attention to the towns they passed. But Harry did not sleep. Every bus, every taxi, he would keep his head pressed against the window, using the painful jolts through his skull as a stimulant. They would come for him eventually, the vampires or the wizards, and he'd be damned if whoever got to him first found him sleeping.

"So where're yeh off to, then?" The taxi driver spoke for the first time. It was dark outside, the hundreds of stars visible in the sky helping Harry relax.

"I'm not really sure," he replied. And he wasn't. In a spur of the moment, Harry had flagged down the first taxi he found in whatever small town it was he'd been holed up in – he hadn't paid attention to where he was. All he had asked the driver to do was to take him to the closest airport that could get him to a big city, he didn't care which one.

Harry didn't know where the sudden desire for action came from. He only wished he knew what the action that he was taking _was._ Was he still running? Hoping to fly to another country to escape even further? Or was this his heart trying to get him to go home? He hoped it wasn't the latter, but he felt once he got to the airport his decision would be made for him. He only planned to get on the first flight available.

"Don't know where yeh goin', and yeh got no real bags," the driver chuckled. "Sure you ain't just runnin' from home, kid?"

"Maybe," he murmured into the window. What was he running from? Home? Vampires and Wizards? His duty? He was definitely running from his duty. He didn't owe anyone anything back home, not after what he had done for them. He didn't really mean what he'd said to McGonagall; he didn't actually want people to die. But why did it have to be him that solved the problem?

' _Just let me live,'_ he thought for the thousandth time since leaving Forks. _'Let me have my life.'_

But it wasn't entirely true to say he didn't owe anyone anything. He could think of a handful of people he definitely owed something if he only had the strength needed to give it to them. He didn't like thinking of the Weasleys. They had lost so much because of him. How could he ever expect them to forgive him for what he'd done? No matter what Kingsley had told him that day – thinking about his death caused Harry even more anguish – there was no vacancy at the Weasleys' for a curse like him.

"Yeh know," the driver continued, "runnin' never really helps nothin'. Leavin' people behind an' all that. Nah," he shook his head letting out a huge sigh. "Best teh stay with them who care 'bout yeh."

"And what if you don't know who cares about you?" Harry couldn't help but ask. He hadn't realised how desperate for human interaction he was; he'd been so starved of conversation.

"Everybody's got someone who cares 'bout 'em. Them who check up on yeh, ask how yeh doin' an' that. Can't 'magine a kid like yeh without anyone at all." He said frankly.

"I just –" Harry didn't know how he could word his feelings. "Something happened. A while ago. I ran away then, and came to America. But…" he rested his head back on the seat, staring at the long stretch of road. "I don't know. I guess I was making friends. But they found out something about me – a secret."

The cabbie nodded sagely, "And yeh don' know if they still care 'bout yeh? Mmm." Harry's silence confirmed his theory. "Look kid, I ain't gonna tell yeh what teh do, ain't my place. But seems to me like yeh got people who'd be mighty upset if yeh ran away. Yeh ain't gonna know if yeh don' ask 'em. Else you might be runnin' from those who are acceptin' yeh after all."

Silence filled the car then, as both occupants thought about what had been said. Harry considered the words very carefully. It was reasonable to suggest that a group of vampires could accept someone else different, but it wasn't that easy. What about Bella? She seemed to have taken the news that the Cullens were vampires well enough, but would she have room for another danger in her life? Because that's what he was; there was no doubt that his presence, wherever he was, brought danger to those around him. If Bella and the Cullens still wanted to know him, wouldn't that make things worse by returning and putting them in danger?

Those eyes forced their way back into the forefront of his mind. Harry had no doubt Carlisle would not accept him. He knew the worst of what Harry had done, and the shame in his eyes had told Harry how he felt about him. The horror in his eyes upon at last discovering a word for what Harry was had suggested he was not completely new to the idea of wizards and witches. If known prejudices were anything to go by, Harry figured it could not have been a good experience. Would anyone want him back, really?

"Well, here's the airport, kid." They pulled up in front of the terminal building. It wasn't a very large airport, but there were enough people around to suggest that there were flights heading out tonight.

"Thanks," Harry said as he reached into his pocket for some notes. The driver waved him off.

"On the house," he said, smiling. "Figure out what yeh really wanna do before yeh go flyin' off anywhere."

Harry clambered out of the car, slinging his small rucksack over his shoulder. He watched as the taxi drove off, leaving him alone in the cold. He dragged his feet over to a bench just outside the terminal. He couldn't face going inside just yet; he was scared what he might do if he saw the flights he could take.

Stay or leave? If he left, where to go? Harry grasped his head in his hands and tugged on his hair. It wasn't fair! How was it that his life had screwed up so badly? He wished he could go back in time, back to the moment right after Voldemort had been defeated. If those Death Eaters had just been stunned properly…

He'd have Ron. He'd have Hermione. And the rest of the Weasleys. He and Ginny might have talked things over and gotten back together. Would he have gone back to Hogwarts for his seventh year? Maybe he would have fast-tracked straight into the Auror program. He would have had to deal with accolades, but it would have been worth it to have his friends by his side. His family. He'd have been able to visit Teddy.

At the thought of his godson, Harry broke down. He hadn't let himself think of Teddy, too scared of what his emotions would do. Leaving him had been the hardest part, but Harry knew it had been necessary. He couldn't have helped Teddy and supported him when his own head was barely in the right space. He assumed Teddy was with Andromeda. She'd be strong for him, Harry knew. She was far stronger than Harry could ever be. Perhaps that was how Harry could move forward. If he set his sights on being better for Teddy… that could be his goal.

And suddenly things made sense again.

He lifted his head when a soft hoot came from in front of him. He looked at the ground. It was an owl. No. It was –

"Artemis?" Harry gasped.

"Could you have gone much further?" A familiar voice called from the darkness. Instincts kicking in, Harry leapt to his feet and brandished his wand in the direction the voice had come from. Slowly, a figure came forward until Edward Cullen, with his hands in the air and wearing that stupid smug smile of his, stepped out of the shadows.

"Hey Harry," he said quietly. His smile fell once he got a good look at Harry, who turned away quickly wiping his face on his sleeve. He was sick of crying.

"How did you find me?" Harry knew the answer. Using Artemis, who was now hopping around in front of him, was the only way they could have tracked him so far.

"Your protections around the house didn't affect Bella," Edward answered, explaining the only part Harry couldn't understand. "She has a mental shield of sorts. So she found Artemis and told her to find you." Edward tilted his head, looking so much like Carlisle that Harry had to look away. "You've travelled across three states, you realise?"

Harry sighed, "Edward, I've got no idea where I am. Why are _you_ here?"

"Because you never let us explain anything. No one is upset with you, Harry." Harry could sense the lie but he didn't point it out. It already hurt enough that Edward was the one who came; obviously _he_ hadn't felt the need to come looking for Harry.

"Where were you heading? Home?" Edward asked, gazing in through the window to the terminal.

"Dunno," Harry admitted. "Was just working that out when you showed up."

Harry could feel Edward's eyes watching him closely but he couldn't make himself meet his gaze. He watched as Artemis scrabbled in the grass looking for something.

"You could come back to Forks," Edward suggested.

"And what would I do then, Edward?" Harry asked seriously. "Go back to school? Sit in the sidelines of you and Bella and get ignored by your family? Never knowing where in the damn town I fit in?" He glanced up at Edward. "What's actually left for me there?"

"Bella." The answer came easily. "Me. Car– my family," Harry winced at what Edward had almost said. So it was true: Carlisle didn't want him back.

"There's someone I need to go back for. Someone important to me," Harry explained. Edward looked understanding, but disappointed. "But I don't think I'm ready for that just yet. Will things –" he broke off, searching for the right words. "Will things be okay if I go back to Forks? Will _everyone_ be okay?" Harry knew that Edward understood who he meant.

"He needs you just as much as you need him, Harry," Edward admitted gently. "He's been a mess since you left. His thoughts are… lost at the moment. But I believe he'll be okay in time. You both will."

Harry leaned back against the building behind him. Was this it then? Had he finally made his decision? Go back to Forks and do some proper healing so he could return to Britain to find Teddy? Harry liked the sound of that, truthfully. He only hoped he'd have a chance to speak to Carlisle soon; Harry wasn't sure how much healing he could do without having the man to discuss it with.

"Alright," Harry finally said. Edward gave another one of his smug grins. "Shut up," Harry said without venom.

"Excellent, come on then!" Edward turned to leave.

"What? I'm not coming with you, you fool," Harry said exasperated.

Edward blinked. "What? Why not?"

"What, a piggyback?" Harry laughed. "Thanks, but I'll get back myself."

"Or you could take us both back? Could you? Teleport?" Hearing Edward call it _teleporting_ amused Harry greatly.

"How far did you say we are from Forks?" he asked.

"Maybe two thousand miles?" Harry blinked. He hadn't realised he'd come that far. "It's been a while since I left Forks following Artemis. When I worked out her general direction I'd take over for a bit and carry her in a cage while I ran. I don't think she liked that, to be honest."

"I can't do that sort of distance," he grimaced. "I'll have to work my way closer."

Edward frowned. "But didn't you teleport from Britain in the first place?"

"It's a long story," Harry said, shaking his head, "one I don't fully understand myself. Just trust me for now when I say I can't do two thousand miles."

"Well we are at an airport," Edward pointed out. "Why don't we just fly to Seattle?"

"Can you cope in a confined space with humans like that?" Harry genuinely didn't know how good the Cullens' control was. He only knew Carlisle had the strongest of them all.

"I hunted this morning, I'll be fine," Edward assured him. He picked up Harry's bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Come on then, I reckon there's a flight in an hour or so."

Sighing, Harry hauled himself to his feet and told Artemis to start making her way back to Forks. He watched her fly off into the night, guilt pouring over him at the thought of how he had left her behind. He'd have to make it up to her when they met again. Harry stayed looking up into the never-ending night sky for a few moments before dragging his feet after Edward.

"Just don't talk to me on the plane," he grumbled. "I'm bloody exhausted."

* * *

 _Dearest one,_

 _The boy is gone. I do not know where he has gone, or why exactly he left, but he has vanished. I am under the impression he did not tell anyone he was leaving, and I have been trying to keep close watch over his associates. They appear to have set off to find him through the use of his owl. No doubt the bird will lead them directly to him._

 _Wards have been erected at his house. It appears no one can approach except for one girl, a friend of the boy's. Isabella Swan is the child's name. Her father coincidentally is the Police Chief, no doubt keeping an eye on Potter too. I do not know how she managed to overcome anti-Muggle wards as I am sure she is not a witch. She may prove costly to our cause. With your approval I will seek to dispose of her as necessary._

 _Everything is in place for the final bang. I have procured the key to the boy's downfall and am waiting for your signal to unleash the maelstrom that it will bring._

 _I trust that you have received my other gift, also. It was not at all difficult to come by; the boy had clearly expected no one in this town to come looking for it and so for his lack of vigilance he does not deserve to wield it. In your possession it will perform wonders, I know. At last with this piece of the puzzle, the final stages of our plan can commence. It is satisfying to see our work fall into place after so long._

 _Tell me your thoughts on the Swan girl. She is disposable for the greater cause._

 _Long live the Bringer of Light._


	35. Chapter 34

Their plane landed in Seattle early Saturday morning. It was still dark as Harry stretched his arms up above his head while they walked out onto the cold street, the morning air startling him awake. He had slept the whole flight, and while it hadn't been long, it had certainly reduced his weariness.

"How far are we now?" Harry asked Edward. He had figured out that they were now in the correct state, but he still didn't know how big that state was. Maybe he should actually look at a map sometime.

"Still about two hundred miles by road," Edward replied, marching on ahead towards the multi-storey carpark. "Which is why we'd best get a move on." They walked through row after row of cars but Edward seemed to know where he was going. Harry half wondered if he was looking for one to steal.

"We're driving?" He asked, stifling a yawn.

"We are," Edward confirmed. "I had Alice drop this off for me; I asked her before our plane left. You can sleep on the way if you like." They finally came to a stop beside a beautifully sleek car that was the darkest blue Harry had ever seen. This was not the Volvo that Edward drove them to school in. This was something _else._ Harry read the badge: _Aston Martin._

"This is _yours_?" Harry asked, unable to hide his amazement. Even knowing nothing about cars, Harry could tell this was a very expensive one; it certainly stood out from the other nearby vehicles.

"She is," Edward replied, grinning madly. "Hop in."

* * *

Far too quickly, Harry was getting nudged by a cold hand.

"Harry, wake up." Grumbling to himself, Harry opened his eyes, surprised to see his house in Forks. He looked at the clock and groaned. Seven thirty. Edward can't have driven anywhere close to a legal speed to make such good time. They had stopped just inside the gate, still a good distance from the house.

"Uh, were you going to drive closer?" Harry asked, still half asleep.

"I would love to," Edward replied pleasantly. "I simply didn't want to be shocked with thousands of volts of electricity while driving this beautiful car."

Harry stared at him, confused. Electricity?

He blinked.

"Ah," he sighed. "The wards."

Harry pulled his wand out and muttered a few words, disabling the wards surrounding his house. Part of him was pleased to know that he had managed to keep the vampires out effectively.

"There you go. Drive on, driver," he teased, his eyes closing again briefly. Chuckling, Edward did, pulling up in front of the door.

Harry and Edward both got out, Harry slamming the door a little too hard causing Edward to hiss in pain. Harry looked at his house feeling uncertain; no turning back now.

"Shall I leave you to get your things in order? Bella suggested the place was quite a mess," Edward commented. Harry thought it sounded as though Edward didn't really want to leave him just yet, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be left alone either. But Edward was right: his house was a mess. He wouldn't be able to do anything else until he fixed it up.

"Sure," Harry said. "I, uh – just give me some time to get things sorted."

"Shall I return in an hour?" Edward asked gently. Harry nodded. "Then I'll leave you for now." And he turned to get back into his car.

"Edward," Harry called suddenly. The other boy turned around. "Uh, thanks for um, you know," he gestured awkwardly, "coming to find me."

Edward smiled. "Of course, Harry. Any time." He climbed back into his car and rumbled down the drive onto the street.

Harry turned back to his house.

"Right then," he said, trying to bolster himself. "Here we go."

Opening the door, Harry took a good look around his living area. When he had left two weeks ago he hadn't actually seen downstairs, only apparating and disapparating directly from his bedroom upstairs. Now he could see just how thoroughly the intruder had searched; most drawers and cupboards were open, some of them with their contents thrown all over the floor. The television had been pulled away from the wall as though they had considered he might have hidden the wand behind it somewhere.

It made Harry nervous knowing that someone out there, other than Bella and the Cullens, knew who and _what_ he was. The fact they had known he was in possession of the Elder wand was deeply troubling, and had Harry wondering if he shouldn't leave some more permanent wards in place. Whoever it was wouldn't be able to use it properly of course, but that only made Harry feel more trapped. He could almost sense Death gazing in through his windows, waiting until the right moment to strike him down.

Harry waved his wand, watching as all his possessions flew back to their respective homes. At some point on the way back to Forks, between drifting in and out of sleep, Harry had admitted to himself that living without magic was not only depressing, it was dangerous. If there really was someone in Forks looking to kill him, he needed to be strong and ready. He had felt how rusty he was when he'd been apparating everywhere, not able to go anywhere near his usual distance and tiring quickly. Even now casting a non-verbal _Reparo_ was difficult, some of his larger possessions losing their will half way and crashing to the ground. He wished he had access to something like the Room of Requirement where he could start training himself again, but of course he didn't. He'd have to make do with the basement downstairs.

Finished with downstairs, Harry headed upstairs where he knew it was even more of a mess, partly due to his own searching making sure the Elder wand really was gone. He switched to using the verbal spell just to make things go faster. His bedroom back in order, he went down the hall to the study, the room where the last two weeks of trouble had started. He wondered, not for the first time, if he and Bella had never gone to the Cullens, would the intruder have still come in and attacked them, or had they been watching his house waiting for him to leave? A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

Harry walked over to the bookcase where the photo of him and his parents sat. He watched them waving up at him, laughing, as though trying to send him their joy and love through the glass. Smiling sadly, he left it sitting there and tidied up the room. He cleaned up Artemis' filthy stand, the guilt at leaving her behind bubbling in his stomach. He didn't return the battered up notebook to its place behind the desk. No doubt Bella or the Cullens would be over here at some point in the future; he didn't need to risk one of them finding it again. Instead he took it back into his bedroom and put it underneath his mattress.

It took him another half an hour to finish tidying the rest of the rooms. Once he was happy everything was where it should be, he went for a quick shower. Thrilled at finally being clean, it was with good spirits Harry went down to his kitchen to see if he had any food left that hadn't expired. He found some cereal that was still alright and made himself a cup of tea. Of course he had no fresh milk, but when you'd been eating as poorly as Harry had the past two weeks, dry cereal and black tea was a delightful breakfast.

The sound of a car driving up to his house brought him from his thoughts. It was not the deep rumble of the Aston Martin, so Harry assumed that Edward had switched back to his Volvo.

"The door's open," Harry said at a normal volume, still munching on his breakfast. He heard the front door open and close and Edward ambled around the corner, looking around as he did so.

"Bit big for one person, isn't it?" He commented curiously. Harry shrugged.

"Didn't pick it myself. That's what happens when a wizard tries to pick out an inconspicuous Muggle house," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Muggle?"

"Non-magic people," Harry supplied. This would take some getting used to for all of them. He sipped his tea, looking at Edward closely. The vampire was trying to be casual, but Harry could tell he was dying to ask another question, and he reckoned he knew exactly which one. He grinned into his teacup; he was personally surprised Edward had lasted this long.

"So," Edward said, drawing the word out as though he didn't have a care in the world. "Can I see some magic? Please? Sorry, I'm sure you didn't want anyone pestering you about it, and I know that you'll probably get asked dozens of times by the rest of my family and maybe Bella, so I understand if you'd rather not just now, but I just – HEY!" He cut off abruptly, flung upside down and hoisted into the air by his ankles.

Harry laughed harder than he could remember since coming to Forks. The look on Edward's face had been priceless and before long he too joined in the laughter.

"Alright then you can put me down now," he said.

"I don't know," Harry chuckled, "you're less annoying like that." He waved his wand and watched Edward crash to the floor. In a blink of an eye he was upright again, grinning madly.

"You're in a good mood," he commented.

"You would be too if you were showered and fed for the first time in two weeks," Harry replied. He didn't mean for it to sound so blunt, but he turned away, pretending to miss the smile slide off Edward's face, and busied himself with his dishes. He could feel Edward watching him closely and prayed he wouldn't say anything. After all this time, Harry still couldn't stand pity.

"So," he said, putting as much warmth into his voice as he could muster, "what now?"

Seeming to understand that Harry didn't want to talk about his time away from Forks, Edward seemed to recover.

"Do you feel up to going to my house? Everyone would like to see you, and you know they have questions."

Harry sighed. No, was the answer. He didn't feel like doing this now, but he knew he shouldn't put it off. Edward and Bella especially had worked together to find him. Maybe he could try persuade them that having him around was dangerous for them after all. Then if they decided he should leave at least he would know, then, that he actually needed to set out on his own.

"Sure," he said. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Harry couldn't help the thundering of his heart or the sweat around his collar that started as they pulled up in front of the Cullens' house. The last time coming here with Bella had led to disaster as Harry's secret had come crashing down around him. He'd run like a fugitive. How would this meeting end? Seeing Bella's red truck parked beside them didn't help either; would she really accept him once she knew everything?

"It'll be fine, Harry," Edward said calmly, obviously able to hear every beat of Harry's racing heart. "I promise."

Mouth suddenly dry, Harry got out of the car. He took a shuddering breath before following Edward up to the door and into the house. Edward gestured him on ahead into the living room, where seven people were sat talking amongst themselves. If Edward hadn't purposely positioned himself in the doorway, Harry would have backed right out again. It was only the huge smile Bella sent his way that gave him the courage to take another step forwards.

"Harry!" Bella cried, launching herself off the sofa and throwing her arms around his neck. Harry was momentarily frozen; Bella had never shown him this level of affection before, and it had been a long time since anyone had hugged him at all. He slowly put his arms around her in return before she noticed how much she had surprised him. Knowing how pleased she was that he was back made him feel a stirring of warmth inside.

She let go of him suddenly and punched him, hard, on the arm.

"Ow!" He complained.

"If you _ever_ run off like that again," she threatened, "you'll _wish_ your only punishment was a punch on the arm." Harry flushed red, trying to ignore the snickering vampires surrounding him. As Bella went back to her seat, he looked around the room; each vampire was sitting with their respective partner, while Edward was still leaning against the door frame as though not trusting Harry to stay put. His eyes drifted to Carlisle whose own eyes were fixed firmly on Esme's hand in his own; apart from Rosalie, he was the only one not smiling.

"Can we see some magic?!" Emmett demanded excitedly. Harry snorted; in hindsight he was impressed with how long Edward had managed to keep his cool. He snuck a sideways glance at Edward who grinned knowingly, before he waved his wand and watched on for the second time that morning as a vampire was hoisted into the air by their ankles. Emmett was so shocked at finding himself suddenly upside down that it took him almost a minute to join in everyone's laughter. Smirking, Harry's eyes drifted to Carlisle. His stomach plummeted at seeing the discomfort on the man's face. Harry instantly dropped Emmett and tucked his wand away, wiping the sweat off his neck while everyone's laughter settled down.

Harry could see Edward watching Carlisle as well with a deep frown of concern on his face. Harry had expected it to be bad; Edward had indicated that Carlisle had been troubled since discovering Harry's identity, but Harry hadn't counted on _this._ Stoically, he looked away ignoring the thickness in his throat.

"Harry," Bella's voice called him out of his gloom, "what do you want to talk about?" It was asked kindly, offering him the chance to say only what he felt comfortable with. He appreciated the thought, but he still felt uncomfortable. Edward moved, then, over to sit next to Bella. If Harry focused, he could pretend he was just talking to the two of them; it wasn't that he didn't want to tell the others as well, he just didn't think he could stand them all watching him.

So he began talking.

He started with the happy parts; he told them of Hogwarts and the thrill of discovering magic. He didn't dwell on the misery in his life before the age of eleven or his summer holidays spent with his Aunt and Uncle. Instead he recounted some of his fonder memories; his first Christmas at Hogwarts, helping to free his godfather, the joy that is Quidditch. He found it easy to talk about, the smile that stayed on his face reminding him of just how much happiness he had once felt in his life. The first time his words became difficult was when he spoke of his friends.

"Ron is – _was_ my best mate," he said, shifting his eyes down to his lap. "And Hermione, she was brilliant. And they were the best two friends anyone could have." He let out a small sniffle, trying to muffle it with a cough. "But they're gone now.

"There was a war," he said. The rest of his tale would be the difficult part, and so he kept his eyes down trying to hide the emotion they were betraying. "Well, there were two wars. The first ended with my parents' death and me being given this," he lifted his fringe slightly, just enough that the lightning bolt scar was visible. "I was only one, the whole wizarding world worshipping me for _defeating_ the dark wizard, Voldemort." Harry found it almost jarring at seeing no reaction to the name. "Most people thought he was gone for good, that whatever had happened that night had killed him. The Headmaster of my school, Dumbledore, he didn't think so. He guessed Voldemort was just biding his time, rebuilding in strength. And he was right.

"Voldemort came back when I was fourteen. Everything went to hell from there as his pureblood ideology resurfaced. There was a prophecy that said only I could defeat him thanks to what he'd done to me as a baby. So when we were seventeen, Ron, Hermione and I trekked around Britain, slowly destroying the magic that was keeping Voldemort alive. But people were dying; everywhere there were non-magic people being murdered, just for the fun of it. Anyone who didn't side with Voldemort was disposable.

"The fight then came to Hogwarts. A group of some old veterans, teachers and students, fighting his army of Death Eaters. In the end the prophecy was fulfilled and I killed him. We won," Harry gave a humourless chuckle. "We bloody won. Only we didn't win. No one did. And when everyone thought it was over and finally, _finally_ we'd be able to mourn in _peace_ , it all went wrong." Harry could feel his throat in serious danger of closing up. He could no longer see the pale faces in front of him. His mind's eye had gone back to that terrible day in the Great Hall, Ron's terrified face burned in his memories forever. He hadn't even seen Hermione, not before –

"I got sent here," he whispered, seeing the darkened highway in front of him. "I still don't know how I came so far, it should be impossible. That was the first time Carlisle found me. But I didn't know," he growled, "I _didn't_ _know_ that there were more dying back home. More people being taken from me – taken _because_ of me. Ron," he choked, "and Hermione, gone."

It took every ounce of willpower not to disapparate again so he could break down in privacy. It was the first time he'd actually voiced the fact that he would never see his friends again, not as they had been. He let the tears slide down his cheeks, not caring how weak he must seem. He remembered a similar time at the end of fourth year when he had broken down in Molly Weasley's arms. His inner child wished for her love and warmth now. The tears fell faster thinking of her; just another person he'd abandoned.

' _I did it to protect them,'_ he reminded himself. Even this defence now seemed pathetic in his mind.

He started at the feeling of a warm hand placed on his knee. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes under his glasses, trying to regain control. He hadn't completely fallen apart, but it had been a close thing. He looked up into Bella's soft eyes, startled to see tears on her own face. He glanced around the room and was amazed to see himself surrounded by glossy eyed vampires; even Rosalie looked solemn. Carlisle still was not looking at him, his eyes fixed on the floor looking pained. _Pitying_. Harry felt his jaw clench slightly.

"Dear, you're always welcome in our home," Esme told him firmly but kindly. "Anytime you want to talk to someone or anything, just come around."

"I'm really not a very safe person to have around, Mrs Cullen," Harry tried. "Most people who get close to me end up dead; you probably worked that out from my life story."

"We're a little tougher than humans," Emmett joked. "And we can help watch out for Bella too." Alice whacked him over the head.

"What Emmett means, Harry," she said, "is that you can be safe here. The terrible things that have happened to you don't have to keep on happening."

He wanted to point out how wrong she was, that just two weeks ago it had been proven how easily wizards could find them. Nothing could keep them truly safe, but at least now they understood the dangers. If anyone came for him in the future, he'd know he could run and the Cullens would know to stay away.

"I've done horrible things, too." He hated the words that were coming out of his mouth but he did not try to stop them. If they were to accept him, Harry needed them to know the true extent of what he had done. "Things that would get me sent to prison back home."

"Harry stop," Edward insisted. And Harry did.

He turned back to Esme who was still watching him expectantly. "Um, thank-you, Mrs Cullen," he said honestly. He wasn't entirely sure how much he would take her up on her offer, but he understood her good intentions.

"Call me Esme, dear," she offered. Harry only nodded in response. The room was now filled with an uncomfortable silence; at least Harry felt it was uncomfortable. Maybe that was just him.

"Harry," Edward began, "what do you know of witch trials in history and how they affected people like you?"

Harry blinked. What a strange question. He raised an eyebrow in confusion, and the other followed in alarm as he heard a soft growl from his right; glancing towards the sound, Harry was startled at the look of fury on Carlisle's face. Looking back at Edward who was steadfastly ignoring his father's reaction, Harry responded.

"Um, not a lot really," he said slowly. "I think I did an essay on them a few years ago, but I can't remember the details. Why do you ask?" As Edward opened his mouth to answer him, Carlisle spoke up for the first time since Harry had arrived.

"I think it would be best to leave things there. I'm sure Harry would appreciate some rest before going back to school on Monday." Giving Edward a stern look, Carlisle swept from the room without even a passing glance at Harry.

Harry felt helpless. What did he expect? He hadn't told the others in detail about all the terrible things he'd done. He figured Edward must know or at least suspect considering how silent he had been at school in the days following his revelations to Carlisle. Bella and the others had no idea of his crimes; he hadn't been brave enough to tell them in detail. Was that what disappointed Carlisle now? That Harry couldn't own up to his own past? Or was he just so disgusted in what Harry had done that he couldn't bear to look at him?

"Come on," a gentle nudge brought him back to himself, "I'll drive you home." Bella put her hand on his shoulder and lead him out of the room. The Cullens offered their goodbyes which Harry returned politely. Edward followed them outside looking furious.

"Don't worry about him, Harry," Edward said. Harry flushed, knowing that everyone inside the house would be able to hear them. "He'll come around eventually."

"It doesn't bother me, Edward," he replied with bitterness. He refused to show just how much Carlisle's snubbing hurt him. He deserved it after all. "He's entitled to react however he likes."

Edward looked at him knowingly but Harry said no more. Trudging over to Bella's truck, he flung himself into the passenger side, pretending he didn't notice the look Edward and Bella exchanged. Bella got into the driver's seat and the truck roared to life. Only when they were most of the way down the winding road did she speak.

"You know I don't mind," she said. "You could be a wizard, or a vampire, or even a werewolf and I'd still want to be your friend."

His head leaning back against his headrest, Harry turned to look at her.

"It isn't always safe being my friend," he reminded her.

"Too bad."

Unable to help the small smile that came to his face, Harry turned back to look out his window. He heard Bella chuckle beside him.

"On the bright side, you and I are the only minds Edward can't read," she laughed.

"Yeah," he agreed automatically. When her words finally computed, he sat bolt upright.

"Wait. Edward can _what_?!"


	36. Chapter 35

The next few weeks back at school had been some of the longest of Harry's life. His sudden and prolonged absence easily explained by a family emergency back home, his first day back had started off amusingly as his classmates were shocked into silence at his return. Unsurprisingly, it quickly turned irritating, especially once he found out that everyone knew he had been the guy who escaped from the hospital all those months ago. He had been inundated with questions, people only subsiding when Harry started to be flanked by one or two Cullens between classes. Without prompt they had become Harry's bodyguards, something that would normally annoy him but not in this case; he knew that the pestering by his classmates would have been far more irritating.

They had all fallen into a routine; Edward would pick up Bella and Harry on the way to school, sometimes even picking up Harry first so he could sit in the front. The three of them would sit together at lunch, or else with the rest of the Cullens, conversation passing freely between them. There were no more glares sent across the cafeteria or harsh whispers spread behind backs; the seven of them got along amicably, even Rosalie on occasion was found to smile at a joke shared. Eventually even the rest of the school lost interest in their new group.

Harry, meanwhile, felt like he was just coasting through, getting buffeted by life as it pushed him along. He had been practising his magic at home, but none of it felt right. His conversations with Edward flowed, but he found himself forcing them to continue. Things were going so much better than before, but at the same time things were stagnating. He didn't sleep, his exhaustion a constant part of him. He ate well, and he even exercised, slowly rebuilding the weight he had lost in his absence. But he still wasn't _healthy._

He knew what the problem was. It was all mental. He wasn't right in the head and he didn't know how he could fix it. Bella and Edward had both tried talking to him, and he had tried to discuss things with them both, but it never helped. If anything it just made him want to draw deeper back into his shell. It was the thought of Teddy and all he wanted to go back for that kept him from deteriorating further.

' _He wasn't your bloody psychiatrist,'_ Harry repeated to himself for the hundredth time. Because it was true; Carlisle hadn't be a psychiatrist. But, no matter how much Harry tried to deny it, he had been a friend. Carlisle's three hundred years on earth had opened his eyes to so many types of pain and suffering, but also healing. Once Harry had finally gotten over himself and his initial bitterness, he had found himself feeling better after his Wednesday meetings with the man. Even if Harry had said next to nothing, the weight on his shoulders always seemed a little less on the way home.

He'd given him a whole week; Harry hadn't bothered going to Carlisle's office his first Wednesday back, not seeing the point after the cold reception he'd received only four days earlier. His resolve had weakened a week later, or maybe he'd forgotten just how ashamed Carlisle had looked that day, and he'd tried to visit him. Of course, Harry knew he could never forget the disappointment and shame that Carlisle had looked at him with, but in a moment of weakness Harry tried to pretend it hadn't been so bad.

When he'd arrived at the hospital last Wednesday, he'd begun to take the familiar route to Carlisle's office. Before he'd even rounded the last corner, Harry had come across the man in the hallway, briefcase in hand and coat on his back.

"Oh," the man had said, doing a good job at pretending he hadn't sensed Harry's arrival minutes earlier. "I'm headed home now, Harry. Now's not the best time," and he'd continued on past without even waiting for a response.

' _He's a busy man,'_ Harry had thought desperately. _'I can't expect him to always find time for me.'_

He was furious at himself over how weak he was being, letting Carlisle control his life like this. He hadn't told Bella or Edward that he had gone to the hospital that day, but he could tell that Edward had known. His feelings had only been confirmed when Edward confronted him two days later.

"It isn't your fault, Harry," Edward had begged him to believe. "There's just some things that Carlisle needs to come to terms with before he can help you."

"I don't need his help," Harry had insisted. "I'm doing fine on my own."

Harry had known it was a lie. So had Edward. Of course neither of them had voiced the fact. They went on for the next week ignoring the times Harry would grow silent or when he'd fail to stifle his tenth yawn of the lunch hour. Edward and Bella watched on worryingly, offering their support when they could but knowing they weren't what Harry needed.

And so another dreary Wednesday arrived, the drizzling rain falling steadily. The trio walked out of the school at the end of the day, Harry slightly behind the other two. Bella's hand was tucked firmly in Edward's.

That had been another recent development. Harry suspected it had started earlier than he'd become aware of it and that they'd been putting their kindling relationship aside until Harry settled back into school. Now that he was as settled as he could get in the current circumstances, Edward and Bella would show the occasional signs of their relationship: a lingering hand on her waist, holding hands between classes, or just sending each other dopey looks over the lunch table. It didn't bother Harry as much now Bella knew what Edward was; in fact, he was pleased to have something so _normal_ happening around him. Occasionally, though, it reminded him of the brief relationship he'd had with Ginny; on these days he felt the need to look away when they were with each other.

They piled into Edward's Volvo and headed to Bella's house; she was always dropped home first as she lived the closest to the school. Edward had begun to join Bella and Harry's tutoring sessions which would alternate between their two houses. They never went to the Cullens' house. With the two of them helping him, Harry found himself quickly caught up on the two weeks he'd missed and back on top of his schoolwork. He couldn't help but feel a bit of pride when he thought about it.

When they pulled up at Bella's house, she turned around in her seat to look at Harry.

"You should come to mine for Thanksgiving this weekend," she told him happily. "I'm cooking for Charlie and me but there'll be way too much food for just the two of us."

"Uh," Harry stuttered, "do you think that's a good idea?" Harry had been trying to avoid the Chief as best as he could since returning to Forks, not because of his original misgivings with the man, but because he didn't want to face the questions. Bella had told him about how the wards around his house had both intrigued and concerned her father, and she had warned Harry that he was looking for any opportunity to ask him about them.

"I'll talk to him and try and get him to leave you alone. If it looks like it'll be bad I'll protect you, don't worry," she grinned at him.

"Does it matter that I don't really know what Thanksgiving is?" He'd heard of it, sure, but he'd never celebrated it before.

Bella shook her head, "Of course not! Just turn up with an empty stomach." She smiled brightly at him, her eyes silently begging him to say yes.

"Sure," Harry agreed, partly because he felt he couldn't say no, but also partly because it actually sounded like a nice thing to do.

Bella beamed at him. She opened her door, gave Edward a quick kiss – Harry suddenly found the upholstery in his seat fascinating – and hopped out, giving them both a wave as she ran to the warmth of her house.

"Right then, to the Potter abode," Edward announced pompously, just like he did every day. Harry didn't even give his customary eye roll; he was thinking too hard.

"Can you take me to the hospital instead?" He asked quietly. Some people might follow up this request by asking if Harry was alright and what he needed a doctor for. Given the day, Edward knew otherwise.

"You don't have to keep doing it like this, Harry," he tried. Harry could tell a well thought out argument was coming. "He'll come around eventually. I've tried talking to him but he's adamant at the moment."

"I'm not expecting anything, don't worry," he responded bluntly. "I just… don't worry. Just take me there. Please." Harry was not up to arguing. He had to try just once more. He promised himself this would be the last time.

Edward sighed and turned left to head towards the hospital instead of right towards Harry's house. He parked the Volvo in the visitor carpark where he let Harry out. Harry could feel his eyes on him the whole way to the entrance.

He walked towards the office, half expecting to cross paths with the doctor around every corner. But he made it all the way to the door without coming across anyone. Harry knocked on the door and waited, but he knew there was no one inside; there was no light shining under the door. He made his way back to the front desk, asking the receptionist if Carlisle were possibly in a surgery.

"Oh, sorry sweetie but he's gone home for the day not feeling too good. Just left about twenty minutes ago." She looked at him closely as Harry felt his throat tighten. "Did you have an appointment?"

"N-no," he managed to stammer out. "Just a visitor. Thanks." He quickly turned around and hurried out the door, taking a sharp turn to take himself away from the main entrance.

' _He knew I was coming,'_ his thoughts betraying the painful truth. _'He left early so he wouldn't have to face me.'_

There had been a time in the not too distant past when Harry could not have cared less about Carlisle's opinion of him. A time when it was the doctor who had tried to seek out Harry, only to be turned away week after week. Harry hadn't deserved the man's kindness and yet he had been given it every week. And then, just like every good thing in his life, Harry had ruined it by unleashing his problems onto the man, scaring him away for good. How could a natural killer who had _never_ killed a man accept someone like Harry – a _real_ killer?

The tears had started to fall without him even realising, mixing with the rain that was already soaking him through. He felt tainted; dirty with the filth that was his past. It made sense, he supposed, that he should be left alone to suffer. He would have been alone in Azkaban too.

Harry didn't look up at the footsteps which approached him; he knew whose they were. Putting up an umbrella to cover them both, Edward sat down beside him in the mud.

"You'll ruin those expensive clothes Alice bought you," Harry tried to joke.

"Ah, gives her an excuse to buy more, doesn't it?" Edward replied gently. "It's okay to be upset, you know? I am."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean _you're_ upset?"

"I'm upset because I don't like seeing one of my good friends so miserable," he replied. "What makes it even worse is knowing that it's _my_ father that's causing my friend's pain." Edward looked out into the carpark, and Harry watched the emotions flicker across his face. He could almost see Edward's golden eyes darkening as his anger bubbled.

"I'll be alright, Edward," Harry said, trying to calm Edward down. "I always am."

"Let me take you home." Edward stood, offering Harry a hand. As they trudged back to the Volvo together, Harry felt as though something had shifted between them, something important. He was thinking so hard he didn't even notice the towels Edward had delicately placed on top of the seats in his car.

Harry let his head bounce painfully against the window, the pain reminding him that he could still feel. He needed to snap out of this pathetic misery; he was letting Carlisle control his life without even being a part of it and it was weakening him. Perhaps it would be best for Harry to try and take a more active approach in his own healing. Like most things, Harry had found, it was best to deal with problems alone.

He waved a solemn goodbye to Edward, both scared and curious about what he would do when he saw Carlisle at home. Harry went inside and did the only thing he could think of doing.

"Accio Hermione's bag."

It was time for him to face his fears. As the bag zoomed down the stairs and into the living room, Harry sat himself on the floor and steeled himself. He had been too scared to do this before now; heck, he was _still_ too scared to do it. But he knew that in order to face the future he had to be able to face the past; he needed to be able to face their memories.

With trembling hands he unfastened the latch and looked into the bag. He could see nothing but darkness, the floor of the bag too deep thanks to the extension charm that had been placed on it. Harry took a deep breath, and plunged his arm into the bag.

Reaching right down to the bottom, Harry's hand came up against numerous books. He began to pull some of them out, with each one an old memory would come. He found _Hogwarts: A History,_ Hermione's exasperation at her friends never reading it bringing a sad smile to Harry's face. Next came the _Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ the sign of the Deathly Hallows staring at him from the first page _._ Even _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ was still there, Harry shivering at the memory of that terrifying night in Godric's Hollow. There were many other books, old school textbooks like Hermione's old Ancient Runes books that Harry had never read. Perhaps some of them he could use to fill his bookshelves upstairs.

"Get a grip, Potter," Harry mumbled to himself, "this isn't that bad." But he knew he'd only scratched the surface.

Next that came out were all their clothes. His throat tightened painfully at Ron's too small Chudley Canons pyjamas. In his mind Harry saw Ron's bare ankles, always visible beneath the same clothes he had worn for so many years. Harry knew Ron had always been touchy about his family's lack of money compared with Harry's lavish fortune; Harry hadn't thought before, but he guessed that even just seeing Harry in robes the right length would have reminded Ron every day.

Looking through his own clothes it was mostly plain jeans and shirts, all of which he had numerous replacements now anyway. He moved them into a pile to be thrown out. Harry made sure to pull out all his Weasley jumpers and fold them neatly. Remembering the love of the woman who had made them, the first tear rolled down his cheek.

Empty potions bottles of Dittany and Polyjuice came out next, all joining Harry's old clothes in the rubbish pile. He was thankful that someone, perhaps Kingsley, had removed Phineas Nigellus' portrait; it would be a nightmare having him on the wall.

The last substantial item Harry found was his old rucksack. Holding it in his hands, he gasped as he remembered his final night at the Dursleys' and what he knew to be in this bag. Letting out a shaky breath, Harry undid the drawstring and tipped out its contents. His breath hitched slightly at the influx of memories.

He had just about forgotten what he had packed on that night that was now well over a year ago. His few possessions that were most important to him were all he had been able to bring along. He fingered the pile of letters in his hand which he knew to span all the way from third year. He recognised Ron's messy scrawl and Hermione's neat script, as well as the odd letter from Ginny or another of his friends. The ones from Sirius were far fewer, only having two years in which to gather them, making them just that much more precious.

His old potions kit looked the worst for wear of all his possessions; he could see that the ingredients had all mixed together making one big mess. Some ingredients he could pick out like the snake fangs and the fairy wings, but he knew most of it would be useless now. He grimaced at what Snape would have said had he been able to see the mess.

There were a few more books as well, some of Harry's actual favourites as well as textbooks. Quidditch Through the Ages was one he'd definitely be putting on his bookshelves. One book that Harry knew to be unlike the rest was what made him the most nervous. It was his old photo album from Hagrid.

It wasn't the thought of seeing his parents in the photos that Harry was scared about. It was the _other_ photos that he knew to be inside. Without him knowing, his friends had nicked the album from his trunk towards the end of sixth year, and with the help of Colin Creevey they had filled in many more pages with photos of Harry's time at Hogwarts. He had only looked through them once on the day they had given it back to him and hadn't looked at them since. He was still slightly embarrassed at remembering how emotional he'd been when Ron and Hermione had presented it to him.

Harry's last memories of both of his friends were terrible and had plagued his nightmares since arriving in Forks. How he so desperately wanted to open this album and fill his mind with the happier times! But a part of him felt as though it would be an insult to their memory, like he would be trivialising their sacrifice. Perhaps he'd just look through the original photos.

A familiar knock on the door interrupted Harry's turning of the first page. He hadn't heard that knock on his front door since his earlier days in Forks, but he wouldn't easily forget it. Harry felt his heart speed up as the significance of the moment dawned on him. What was he doing here?

"Come in," Harry croaked. He listened from where he sat on the floor to the front door open and close. Soft footsteps made their way down the hall and into the living room bringing Carlisle Cullen to stand in the doorway. Harry watched as the man's eyes flickered uncertainly between the objects that were covering the floor and Harry himself, as though unsure where to look.

"Hello, Harry," he said simply. Harry didn't respond at first; all he could do was stare at the man who had caused him so much mental strain recently. He found himself not knowing how he wanted this encounter to go.

"I think you and I need to talk about some things."

"Why now?" Harry asked him. He couldn't help the bitterness that laced his words. "Did Edward finally get to you?"

Carlisle smiled briefly, "Edward has been a far better friend to you of late than I have. He was the one who worked out how to find you and the importance of such a task. I have recently been… blinded." The pained look had returned, the same one that he had worn during Harry's last visit to the Cullens' house.

"I get it, though," Harry said. "Why should you want to face me after what I've done? It's not your fault you didn't know the extent of my criminal record. It's enough to put anyone off me," he muttered as he played with a loose thread on his first ever Weasley jumper, completely oblivious to the confused look that settled on the doctor's face.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" the man asked.

"Our last meeting together when I finally told you why I'm so messed up," he clarified. "Don't bother pretending it didn't sicken you, you haven't been able to look at me without shame in your eyes ever since. As I said, I don't blame you." He still refused to look up at Carlisle, too afraid that the look of shame would have returned. He never wanted to see that expression on that face ever again.

"You think I'm ashamed of you?" The question was spoken so softly Harry almost didn't hear it. He sighed in exasperation.

"Carlisle, it's been obvious. You couldn't even look at me when I came back last week and you've avoided me ever since. I get it, I disgust you, what I've done and what I am. I didn't even have the guts to tell the rest of your family my vile secrets. So yeah, I've put two and two together. The only part I haven't worked out is why you've felt the need to come and tell me all of this in person!" His voice had steadily risen in volume as he rambled until he was almost shouting. Didn't Carlisle know how much his opinion had meant to Harry and how hard it had been to see what it had become?

Carlisle closed his eyes, a look of great pain settling on his features; Harry noticed that he too had dark circles beneath his eyes. He watched on as the man tried to gather himself no doubt, Harry thought, to confirm Harry's suspicions.

"Harry," he began quietly, "there are several things that I need to explain to you. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say. If, at the end, you still wish to throw me out of your house, you may. I simply request your audience." Harry nodded, steeling himself for the worst.

"Moments after you ran from my office that day, Harry, I very nearly went after you. I knew you would be hurting and likely embarrassed at what you had told me, but foolishly I let you go, believing you would not desire my presence at that time. It meant, however, that I was unable to speak to you of what you had said.

"You now know, I believe, that Edward can read minds with the exception of Bella and yourself. Edward heard our conversation from that afternoon in my thoughts. I truly am sorry for that, Harry, but your words had been on my mind ever since and try as I might I could not block them from Edward. I told him not to confront you at school, and that I would speak to you about it soon. That was my plan until you appeared with Bella in tow that weekend.

"I was upset but not surprised that you were unwilling to look at me that day. You had revealed your darkest secrets to me and were likely suspicious I had broken your confidence in telling Edward. Had events not then transpired as they did, I would have spoken with you that morning." His eyes became pleading.

"I could _never_ be ashamed of you, Harry. You could never disgust me, not for what you are nor for what you've done. I have regretted since that day not following you out of my office and telling you those words, now even more so knowing how much it has been hurting you. My look of shame that day was directed at nobody but myself. I feared I had pushed you too far that day in my office, a feeling that was nearly confirmed when you arrived with Bella and could not bear to look at me. I was ashamed of my own actions and the possibility that I had pushed you away from me when we had just become friends.

"If I had not been able to accept you for your past, it would have made a hypocrite of me. My family defies the nature of vampires and hunts animals, you know this, but do you truly believe we have all gone through our existence without mistakes? Without regrets?"

Harry was confused. "But you told me you'd never –"

" _I_ have never, yes," Carlisle agreed, "but as any vampire will tell you I am the exception to every rule on vampiric nature. The rest of my family have had their fair share of mistakes, some accidental and others not so, but not one of them have I not accepted afterwards."

Harry didn't understand what Carlisle was saying. It wasn't the same!

"But like you say, that's the nature of vampires. Accidents happen and sometimes nature has to win. What I did was intentional – it was against nature. You can't compare us."

"Harry you know how old I am, yes?" Harry nodded. "Then you must be able to appreciate the number of wars I have witnessed. I never fought in any of them, not believing it was my place as an immortal to influence the world's conflicts in such a manner, but I saw what happened. I saw how it changed _good_ people and the things that they were required to do.

"You killed Voldemort, Harry, you can't ever change that. Destiny or not, you fought for what you believed to be right and you won because of it. Yes, it meant casualties, any war does, but the one you caused was a necessary one. Have you not stopped and thought of the people who are still alive today because Voldemort is gone? You ended the life of a tyrannical monster, and in doing so you've ensured the safety of hundreds if not thousands of innocent people. You can't tell me you wish you hadn't have done it?"

No, he absolutely could not. If there was one thing he would never be guilty of, it was the people still living thanks to Voldemort's death. He shook his head firmly.

"Then don't let the thought of killing define you. _You_ are the reason everybody else is still alive. Let _that_ define who you are."

"But so many others are dead because of me," Harry argued. "My friends, their families: none of them would have died if Voldemort hadn't been after me."

"Which you had no control over," Carlisle reminded him. "You were only one year old when he marked your family and set the future for his own demise. It was his own actions that brought about so many deaths. Never blame yourself for everything that monster did, Harry. None of it is on your shoulders."

Harry desperately wanted to believe Carlisle's words. He had lost count of how many people had told him the same thing, that none of it was his fault. He knew he wouldn't have survived without his friends, but why did it have to be them who died for the cause? Why couldn't they have survived with him to support each other through this new hell that had been created? Harry knew it wouldn't have seemed quite so much like hell if they were with him.

He had a choice; either he could continue on the current road he was on, letting his guilt and his anger suck the life out of him, or he could do as Carlisle said and forgive himself. It _wasn't_ his fault. He _didn't_ kill his friends. He would tell himself these things every day if that's what it took for him to believe them. He wanted to climb out of this darkness. He _needed_ to if he were to survive what was coming.

"I still haven't explained my unforgiveable behaviour since your return," Carlisle gently interrupted his thoughts. "Again, I won't blame you if you don't wish for me to have any further part in your time here, as I feel that would certainly be justified."

"What are you talking about?" Harry didn't understand what he could possibly be about to say that had the man looking so guilty.

"There are very few memories of my human life that I have left," Carlisle began bitterly. "Certainly no happy ones. My father was the head of our local church and part of his duty was to rid the world of monsters and sin, a role that fell onto me when he became too ill to continue himself. He and several other men would scour the streets of London, searching for monsters hiding among the public. Most of them I believe were innocent people simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Others, however, weren't. For instance a vampire we hunted one night became my sire, making me like him. Since then I knew that there were real monsters in the world and we truly had hunted vampires. Everybody else I believed must have been innocent humans, until I learned what you were, Harry.

"I'm sure you know and have been taught in school of the history of witch hunting. A very common practice in the sixteen hundreds in many cities around the world, including London. My father believed there were witches among us, spreading mayhem and mischief through the city. They were targeted by us in our raids. I don't know how many of them were actually witches, nor do I know how many were properly executed. All I know is that in my human life I hunted people who were like you Harry, for no reason other than that they were different. I was uncomfortable when you returned to Forks because I knew that I would be undeserving of your trust again. Truthfully I didn't know if I could face that if you came back to us."

Harry was shocked at what he was hearing, watching on as Carlisle closed his eyes, clearly overcome by memories and remorse. This is what had Carlisle keeping his distance from him? Three hundred year old guilt?

"Carlisle, I don't think any witches you hunted would have been killed. Maybe they weren't as indestructible as vampires, but there were almost no methods people used back then that were actually effective at killing witches and wizards. Besides," he added, as he was still getting no visible response out of the man, "I don't think you can really blame yourself for the attitudes of the sixteen hundreds. Arguably, that was long enough ago to have forgiven whatever was or wasn't done."

Harry mused internally over the fact that the advice he was giving Carlisle was almost identical to that which he had just received. They certainly made quite the pair.

Carlisle at last smiled ruefully and opened his eyes. "That's almost the same as what Edward said to me."

"Have you really been letting that worry you since you found out I was a wizard?" Harry asked, genuinely confused and somewhat concerned.

"I have. I didn't want to assume that you would see things the same way as Edward did. I admit I still find you unpredictable in how you will react to certain things." Harry grimaced, all too familiar with those words as well.

"Look, if I'm not allowed to blame myself for what's happened in my past, then you aren't allowed to blame yourself for what happened in yours. Deal?" Harry was pleased to see the first smile that reached Carlisle's eyes.

"Deal."

Similar to what he had felt with Edward that afternoon, Harry knew that something dramatic had just changed in his friendship with Carlisle. He dwelled on the lessening weight on his shoulders, feeling at last his return to Forks was going right.

"I was about to look through this when you arrived," he held up the album that was still in his lap. "Would you like to meet my family, Doctor Cullen?" He shifted some of his belongings aside to make room for the man to sit beside him.

Carlisle smiled. "It would be an honour, Mr Potter."


	37. Chapter 36

"Just give up, Potter. It's never worked before, why should it work now?"

Harry was in front of his bathroom mirror, wet comb in hand, trying valiantly to make his hair lie flat. Unsurprisingly, his hair was winning, sticking up just the same as it had done since he was a child. Obviously it was just something he would have to accept about himself. Sighing, he threw the comb down in defeat.

It was Saturday evening and Harry was trying to make himself presentable to head over to Bella's house for Thanksgiving dinner. She had mumbled something about the day actually being Thursday but since her father was out of town they'd moved it to the weekend. Harry had only paid attention to where he had to be and when he had to be there; he still didn't much understand American holidays.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was putting so much effort into his appearance anyway. He knew Bella wouldn't care what he looked like, and he very much doubted the Chief would be expecting him to pull out anything special, but there was a part of Harry that _wanted_ to look nice. He hadn't needed to dress up for anything since arriving in Forks and for most of his time here he wouldn't have been bothered even if it had been required. Now, however, things were different and Harry was changing. He needed to acknowledge that somehow.

Despite it only being three days since he and Carlisle had patched things up with one another, Harry felt better than he had in a long time. They had sat on his living room floor for several hours, Harry taking his time in looking at each of the photos in his album. It had been far easier to have someone there with him to whom he could point people out rather than wallowing in his grief alone. Carlisle had been a comforting presence, asking questions but respecting any of Harry's silences too. Watching his friends laughing and waving at him from the pages had been difficult but Harry was glad he had decided to look at them again; now their smiling faces would break through his nightmares offering him some peaceful moments of sleep like he hadn't had in months.

Carlisle had been fascinated by the moving photographs and the numerous magical textbooks that Harry had found and had already borrowed several of them to read himself. It was refreshing being able to introduce someone to the world of magic; seeing Carlisle's joy at the things that had become so normal to Harry was infectious, and Harry had promised himself he would show Edward and Bella the same soon.

He had spent the holiday on Thursday at the Cullens' house along with Bella giving them a wider lesson and practical demonstration of the different kinds of magic. It had been just as educational for Harry as he learned more about how spells affected vampires differently; basic charms didn't seem to have much effect at all while jinxes and the few hexes Harry was willing to try had a slightly muted effect on them. Overexcited, Emmett asked to see some of the Unforgiveables Harry had mentioned briefly, but he quailed under the glares from Carlisle and Edward; Harry had very suddenly grown quite pale. They enjoyed the rest of the day without magic after that.

Harry leant forwards over the basin and looked at himself carefully in the mirror. There were still dark shadows under his eyes and he knew they would be there for quite a while longer. He still had the gaunt look of someone who was underfed but pleasingly he had been steadily regaining his lost weight. The green of his eyes was still dull, but he knew there were times when the life returned to them; Bella always commented how nice it was when his eyes were sparkling. He was not yet healthy, but he was healing.

"I killed Voldemort," he said to the mirror. "That act does not define who I am. I helped save the wizarding world. That act _does_ define who I am."

Harry had been repeating this daily manta since Wednesday evening. He had been serious when he promised he would make himself believe these words and stop blaming himself for everything.

"Ron is d–dead," he stammered. This was always the hardest part. "I am not responsible for his death. Nor is it my fault that Fred was murdered in battle. The Weasleys' losses are not my doing.

"Hermione is alive. She does not remember who I am. I made her a promise that I will keep.

"The only death I am responsible for is Voldemort's. But it does not define me as a killer." Harry finished and let out the shuddering breath he had been holding. Every morning and every evening he would say these words to the mirror. Each day he would add another of his friend's deaths that he was not responsible for, but his final words were always the same. He would not let murder define him.

Harry left the bathroom and went back into his bedroom. Artemis had returned a few days earlier and Harry had enjoyed having her company back.

"What do you think?" He asked her as he slid on his jacket over his shirt. "Presentable without looking like I'm trying too hard?" He received a soft hoot in reply. "That's good enough for me."

The clock beside his bed read five minutes to seven. He had told Bella he would make his own way there with magic.

"Ooh you mean teleporting?" she'd asked eagerly. Harry had only laughed – he still hadn't told them that it wasn't called teleporting. It amused him too much.

With one final check of himself and the wards he now left permanently around his house, Harry disapparated and appeared down the street from Bella's house. He quickly walked the rest of the way, trying to minimise the time spent in the freezing night air, and knocked on the Swans' front door at precisely seven o'clock. Bella opened the door and he quickly stepped into the warm house.

"You'd better realise you never have any excuse to be late to anything, not now I know you can teleport everywhere," she teased.

"You said seven, I'm here at seven, what's the problem?" He defended good-naturedly as he took off his jacket.

"You're looking smart tonight," Bella commented. "Shame about the hair." She laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.

Harry took in a deep breath. The smell of turkey permeated the whole house and filled Harry with a tremendous sense of warmth. It reminded him of the feasts at Hogwarts and the Burrow, and he smiled sadly at the memories.

"Come into the kitchen, it's almost ready," Bella said, moving towards the delicious smells. Harry followed and opened his mouth to ask where her father was but he didn't need to.

"Was that Harry, Bells?" The man walked in from the television room, can of beer in hand. "Ah, how're you doing, kid?" It was asked kindly enough but Harry could still sense the underlying awkwardness. He still hadn't properly spoken to the Chief since returning to Forks, too worried about the questions he would ask about the wards that had been around his house. At this stage his only defence was to feign ignorance, but he knew that wouldn't last very long with the man. Bella had so far managed to supervise any accidental interaction that occurred between her father and her friend on tutoring days, and the man had grudgingly accepted that Harry was safe and left it at that.

"I'm fine, thanks, Chief Swan," he replied as casually as he could. Charlie grimaced slightly and waved his hand.

"It's the holidays, call me Charlie." Harry nodded, internally sure that he didn't quite feel comfortable enough yet to call the man by his first name. "I've been wanting to chat, you know, about –"

"Dinner's ready!" Bella suddenly called out despite only being a few feet away. "Harry give me a hand with this." Giving her a grateful look, Harry hurried over to help. "We'll get this together, Dad, don't worry about it!" And she shuffled her grumbling father back out towards the television.

"Sorry about that, Harry," she said as she came back over to the oven. "I told him not to pester you today. He might need to be reminded though," she growled, sending a dark look towards the door Charlie had just walked out.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, trying not to burn his hands on the potatoes. "I can manage for one evening. Just talk to me about the more normal bits of my old life, that'll keep him happy, I'm sure." They dished up three heaping plates of turkey and the various accompaniments Bella had cooked. Harry was amazed at how much food there was for three people; he had no doubt this would be the best meal he'd had since coming to America.

"This looks amazing, Bella!" Harry praised as the three of them sat down to eat.

"He's right, Bells, smells great too," Charlie added. Bella smiled at the praise and they all began to eat ravenously.

"Dad, did you know that Harry went to a boarding school in Scotland?" Bella asked of her father. Harry smiled into his plate; he was lucky to have found such a good friend in Bella.

They spent the rest of the meal discussing trivial things of Harry's past as well as things happening in school. Harry could tell that the Chief was slightly put out at not being able to grill him over his disappearance, but as predicted the man seemed placated at seeing Harry enjoying himself and talking about his life back home. Harry smiled knowing that he wouldn't have been able to do this a few months ago; it made his recovery seem that much more real.

By the end of the meal as well as dessert – Bella had baked an incredible pumpkin pie which Harry rated almost as highly as his old favourite treacle tart – they could barely move for having eaten so much. Charlie quickly retired back to the television, thanking Bella once more for cooking, and leaving the two teenagers alone at the kitchen table.

"This has been great, Bella," Harry said quietly. "Thanks for inviting me over." He wanted to thank her for more than just tonight, but he couldn't find the words. He was thankful that she had accepted him after discovering what he was and for still treating him just the same. The two of them and Edward made quite the group and he was more grateful for them than they knew.

"Of course, Harry," she smiled at him. "I'm glad I could give you a normal family holiday. God knows you've earned one." They began to clear the plates, moving slowly due to their over-filled stomachs. Just as they were finishing the dishes, Bella's phone chimed.

"Huh," she said, looking strangely at her phone, "that's weird."

"What is?" Harry asked, wiping the last plate dry.

"A text from Mike. He wants me to watch something on the internet." She looked at Harry, one eyebrow raised. "Come on then," and she lead the way up to her bedroom.

Harry followed, Bella already at her computer when he entered her room. He went to sit beside her as she searched for the link Mike had sent her. Eventually she found the video and they sat waiting for it to load, Harry unable to shake an uncomfortable feeling that had settled on him; something told him this wasn't going to be a light-hearted film.

It finished loading and began to play. A deep frown marred Harry's face as he watched the dark room on the screen, something about it tugging at his memories; this all looked very familiar. When a figure ran into frame, he felt his stomach drop.

"Harry," Bella gasped. "That's _you_!" And it was. Harry watched on as his final night in Forks hospital played out on the screen; he watched the ceiling lights shatter in his anger as his magic unfurled around him, and as Kingsley's patronus appeared glowing in the room to deliver its message. His eyes glued helplessly to the computer, Harry watched himself pull out the Elder Wand and disapparate, screaming in pain.

"No," Harry whispered. "No, no, no." This couldn't be happening. Carlisle said – he'd _promised_ – that he'd deleted the footage. Now it was here, on the internet, for the whole world to see.

"Oh my God," Bella said. "That's you leaving the hospital, isn't it?" Harry could barely hear her. Fear and anger were causing the blood to rush through his ears.

"He promised," he cried. "He told me it was gone. He lied to me!" Harry was on his feet, wand in hand.

"Harry, wait!" Bella's shouting brought him back to the present. He tried to take calming breaths but he couldn't. He looked out the window madly as though expecting the Ministry to come storming in brandishing the Statute of Secrecy at him. "Tell me what's going on, please."

"That," he thrust his hand at the computer, "is me using magic, broadcast across the world. Carlisle told me he wiped the security cameras, that no one would ever find that footage. I'm dead. If the Ministry or whoever's in charge in this country finds that, I'm a goner! How do we take it down?! He promised me, _he promised me!_ " He was trying not to scream, not wanting the Chief to know that anything was wrong.

"Carlisle wouldn't have told you it was gone if he didn't believe it, Harry. Obviously someone managed to dig it up, someone who knew it would be there." Harry stopped his pacing. Could it be the same person who'd stolen the Elder Wand? He hadn't told Bella or the Cullens about that, not wanting them to worry about him any more than they already were. But if this person was now risking exposure of wizards to flush him out…

"I need to talk to him," Harry said suddenly. "I need to talk to all of you, actually. Now." Harry was ready to apparate to the Cullens', but Bella made him wait again.

"What about Charlie?" She asked him quickly.

"What about him?"

"What's he going to think if he comes up and realises we're both gone? Knowing him he'll think you've kidnapped me. Not to mention the noise you make when you disappear," she added.

It would delay them, but Harry had to concede she had a point. "Alright, come on then, we'll pretend I'm going home. I'll be back in here in a minute," he explained as he cast a silencing charm on Bella's door. "You should probably let Edward know we need them to come back." The Cullens had gone hunting tonight for their own Thanksgiving 'dinner'. Harry only hoped they hadn't strayed too far from home.

He and Bella trudged down the stairs.

"Dad, Harry's going home," Bella called, her face still pale from the video. Hoping to save time, Harry poked his head quickly into the television room.

"Don't bother getting up, Bella's showing me out. Thanks for having me," he said as casually as he could, adding in a fake yawn for good measure.

"No worries, kid," came the reply as Charlie sunk back down into his couch; he had been halfway to standing.

Harry turned around and raced out the front door. "I'll be back in your room in thirty seconds," he said, sprinting off into the dark. He needed to put some distance between himself and the Swan house before apparating back into Bella's room otherwise the Chief might come storming out looking for a gunfight. Once he was sure he was far enough away, Harry turned on the spot appearing once more in Bella's empty room. He glared at her computer, the damning video still open. Unable to look at it anymore, he closed it down and switched it off.

The door opened behind him, startling him until he realised it was only Bella. She looked surprised to see him and shut the door behind her.

"I didn't even hear you come in," she whispered.

"You don't have to whisper," Harry said. "I've put a silencing charm on your door; we could be yelling and your dad would be none the wiser."

"I told him I was going to bed so he shouldn't come in here while we're gone," she added, holding out her hand to Harry. "Let's go then."

"Hold onto your dinner," he advised, grasping her hand. "It's not the most pleasant way to travel." Gripping tightly, he turned on the spot, pulling Bella along into the darkness.

"Oof!" Bella cried as their feet hit the ground. Unfortunately, her feet didn't stay underneath her and she toppled over, pulling Harry along with her.

"Ouch," Harry groaned. "You're as bad as me with the Floo." He pushed himself up and held out a hand to her.

"You fall over when you have the flu?" She asked, confused, as she dusted herself off.

"No, not the – never mind, I'll tell you some other time." He looked around. They were standing outside the Cullens' house; all the lights were off inside and it was freezing out in the night air. "How far away d'you think –"

"Is everything alright?!" Edward skidded to a stop in front of them both, spraying mud in every direction. The rest of his family followed soon after, and suddenly there was a whole coven of concerned looking vampires in the yard. Harry couldn't help but immediately round on Carlisle.

"You told me that you'd wiped those cameras!" He cried, finally able to unleash the stress of the situation now he didn't have to keep quiet. "You promised me that no one would find it!"

Carlisle stared at him, stunned. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Those cameras that caught me using magic in the hospital," he clarified angrily, "the ones that _I_ took the blame for tampering with despite it having been you!" His breath was frosting in the cold air, misting in front of him and shrouding Carlisle's face.

"I did wipe them," he defended, bewildered by Harry's anger. "What's happened that makes you say otherwise?"

"We can show you," Bella interrupted before Harry could begin yelling again. "But we need a computer. Can we go inside?"

Jasper raced ahead of them to get the computer running. The others followed, Harry glancing at his watch every few seconds; it had already been half an hour since they discovered the video themselves. How long had it been public before that? An hour? More?

Bella took over from Jasper at the computer and quickly found the video again. Harry couldn't bear to watch it again, busying himself with staring out the window, waiting for the Ministry to come snap his wand and cart him off to Azkaban. The silence behind him was deafening.

"Jasper," Carlisle said tersely, "can you find a way to trace it? Can it be taken down?" Harry turned around to look at the concerned faces; he was at least grateful they were taking the situation seriously.

"I should be able to take it down but it's hard to know how far it's spread," he admitted ruefully. His fingers became a blur as they moved across the keyboard, but he shook his head angrily. "I can't trace any sort of identification, it's encrypted too strongly."

Carlisle flashed out of the room and returned seconds later in a fresh change of clothes.

"I'm going to the hospital," he announced. "I want to see if whoever stole the footage left any trace in the security room."

"I'm coming," Harry said, jumping up at once from the window sill. "I can get you there faster, too," he added sensing Carlisle's hesitancy.

"Alright then," he agreed, moving towards Harry. "Jasper keep working on that video, the rest of you see if you can find it anywhere else online." He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, ready to leave.

"Wait," Harry blurted suddenly. "There's something I haven't told you." Everyone's eyes turned to him, even Jasper's, his fingers still working at the keyboard. Harry steeled himself with a deep breath. "I think someone wants me dead. Someone in Forks." He told them about the Elder Wand being stolen from his house and about its history.

"You didn't think to tell us this sooner?" Edward demanded. "We could have followed a scent left behind, but that was a month ago now; there'll be nothing left!" Admittedly, Harry hadn't thought of that.

"Edward," Carlisle chastised gently before turning to look at Harry. "I didn't think anyone else here knew you were a wizard?"

"Neither did I," Harry agreed. "But now I wonder if it's not the same person who found the video."

"Then you can't go to the hospital," Bella said. "Not if there's someone there who wants you dead!" Harry was annoyed to see looks of agreeance appearing on the other faces in the room.

"I'm going," he declared. "I can look after myself. Carlisle, let's go." He held his hand out to the man who had backed away at Harry's revelations. He didn't move at first, staring intently at Harry as though determining what to make of him. He obviously decided he agreed with Harry as he reached out to grasp Harry's forearm.

"Remember what I said," he reminded his family. "We'll be in touch." Nodding at Harry, the pair turned where they stood and vanished with a crack.

A second later they were standing in the darkness of Carlisle's office inside Forks Hospital. Carlisle coped far better with apparating than Bella, but even he looked dazed at the sudden change in location.

"That truly is incredible," he admired softly. Harry smiled despite the situation.

"Head to the security room, you reckon?" Harry posed the question quietly, not being able to hear if there was anyone outside in the corridor.

"I think that would be the wisest place to go, yes," Carlisle agreed. "We're safe at the moment; there's no one in any of the nearby corridors. We'll want to move swiftly though to avoid running into too many people." He gazed at Harry uncertainly. "It might appear odd, you wandering around the hospital with me this late at night."

"This would be so much easier with my cloak," Harry muttered. He moved to open the door. "Well then it's your job to keep an ear out." He opened the door and they stepped out into the brightly lit hospital.

Carlisle immediately moved ahead of him, leading the way to the security room. The man was good, Harry had to admit; they met nobody at all along the way. Carlisle pulled out an old bobby pin from his pocket once they reached the locked door and Harry had to roll his eyes with a smile.

" _Alohomora."_

A soft click could be heard before Carlisle had even had a chance to insert the bobby pin. He smiled broadly at Harry and opened the door. Harry looked around at the multiple computer screens, all showing different parts of the hospital. He hoped Carlisle knew what he was looking for; Harry wouldn't have had a clue where to begin.

Carlisle stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed. Harry opened his mouth to ask what he was doing but was quickly silenced by a raised finger from the man. After a minute, he opened his eyes again, frowning deeply.

"There is something old. I am sure it's familiar," he murmured. "Someone in the hospital, but _who_?" He ran his hand through his sleek hair in thought, not disturbing a single lock from its place.

"You sure it isn't just the security guards you can sense?" Harry asked, not liking the thought of a doctor wanting him dead. "They'd be in here every day, wouldn't they? And we don't know how long ago they managed to get the video."

"That's true," Carlisle mused. "I'm still sure it's a smell I recognise from elsewhere in the hospital though. Someone that wouldn't be from security. It's so incredibly faint." He sat down at one of the computers, still frowning, and began to type away furiously. "I'll try and find when the data was last accessed. How they would have known how to recover wiped data…" he trailed off, clearly disturbed at the thought one of his colleagues was behind this.

Struck by a sudden thought, Harry asked, "Can you access patient files on these computers?"

"No, only security data goes through here," he responded, eyebrow cocked in confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought it could have been one of the staff members who was involved when I was here as a patient. There should be entries from each of them at various times, shouldn't there?" Perhaps if they had a list to start with, Carlisle could narrow down his suspicions.

"That's a possibility," Carlisle agreed, now deep within the computer's software. "I admittedly don't know every single staff member who looked in on you over those days. You're right, though, that there should be chart entries from them. Do you think you can get back to my office without trouble? There's a copy of your file I kept in there from when I was trying to learn more about you. Sorry about that, by the way." He added as an afterthought, giving Harry a guilty look. Harry waved him off.

"I'll just apparate," he assured the man. "You just keep doing whatever it is you're doing and I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave Carlisle one last reassuring smile and stepped into the compressive darkness, appearing once more in Carlisle's office.

"Right then," he muttered softly, "secret Potter files." He walked over to the filing cabinet, lighting his wand to see what he was doing. It didn't take him long to find it, pulling it out and opening it up on Carlisle's desk. The man had clearly read it many times, the folder lying open flat easily. Harry pored over the pages, noting every name that was signed. It didn't help that most of them only had their surname and initialled their first names; he saw many entries from C. Cullen but no others that he recognised. He was flicking through the final pages when a name jumped out at him.

 _S. Prestwick._

Harry's eyes widened. Surely it was a coincidence. There must be lots of people around the world with the last name Prestwick. He realised he had no idea what the new Minister's first name was, but was sure she had never set foot in his hospital room. He racked his brain trying to think of any doctor or nurse who he had met with a name beginning with S but his mind was drawing a blank. He'd have to ask Carlisle; he would know for sure.

A huge crash from outside the office startled Harry, making him jump high in the air. He drew his wand and pointed it at the door, unsure of what to do. He heard someone outside groaning in pain but couldn't hear anyone else rushing to help. He knew he should just go back to Carlisle, but he couldn't just leave someone who was so clearly hurt.

Keeping his wand drawn, Harry walked to the door and opened it slowly. A few metres down the corridor was a nurse sprawled on the floor along with the contents of the trolley she had been pushing. Glancing up and down the corridor, Harry plastered his fringe over his scar just in case and hurried to help her.

"Are you alright?" He asked her, helping her to her feet. She didn't seem to be injured, but she was definitely shaken and winced in pain as she stood.

"Oh, thank-you dearie," she said. She would only have been in her forties at a guess, Harry figured. He thought he vaguely recognised her as one of the nurses who had looked after him; she certainly looked familiar. "These horrible trolleys have a mind of their own sometimes, I swear to you."

"Do you need a hand picking everything up?" He asked, not wanting to stay, but feeling obliged to offer his assistance. Something about this woman was tugging at his memories, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Oh I can handle most of it, I think," she assured him. "If you wouldn't mind just fetching that bottle down there; it rolled an awful long way, didn't it?"

Harry turned to fetch the bottle, his memories finally filling in the gaps for him.

"Suzanne," he said suddenly to himself. This nurse's name was Suzanne. He reached down for the bottle, hand only centimetres from it when Suzanne spoke.

"That's right. I told my sister you would remember me. Good-bye, Chosen One."

Harry's hand closed around the bottle as her words sunk in. He had time to look up at her in shock and see a wide, manic grin cross her face before he felt an all too familiar jerk behind his navel, pulling him away from Forks and into the darkness.


	38. Chapter 37

Harry went sprawling onto the cold, hard ground, rolling a short ways before slamming into a wall. He grunted at the sudden impact as the wind was knocked right out of him. His brain was screaming at him to get up, that there was clearly danger nearby, but his body wasn't following its orders. Instead he squinted up at the bright blue sky.

' _Wait… blue sky?'_

"Perfect weather for it in the end, isn't it Potter? _Petrificus totalus!_ " Harry gasped as his body went rigid and his blood ran cold. He knew that voice, but he hadn't heard it in several months. Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, leaning his board-like body against the wall and placing him in the perfect position to look up into the eyes of his captor. She glared down at him in triumph, Harry's invisibility cloak slung casually over her shoulder.

"Oh, I do love to see that surprise in your eyes," Minister Prestwick laughed snidely. "But then from what I know of you it isn't difficult to catch you off guard, especially without your snotty friends pointing everything out for you." She only laughed harder at the anger that flashed in Harry's eyes.

"You're too easy, Potter," she continued, finally stepping back and giving Harry a chance to see his surroundings. He had landed in what looked like some back alley in the middle of London; at least, he assumed he was in London. He couldn't see anyone else around, but he was restricted to only seeing what was directly in front of him since he couldn't move his neck. Harry let his attention be drawn back to Prestwick. "And now here you are, dragged away once more against your will and completely at my mercy. Which of us shall make the first move, hmm?"

Harry could only watch on helplessly as footsteps approached from his left. ' _Please let it be the Order,'_ he thought desperately. Unable to turn his head, he was forced to wait until the newcomers came to be in line with Prestwick, and his stomach plummeted as they did.

"If we're forming a queue, I'll go first," Yaxley said in his cool voice, glaring at Harry with hate and triumph. All four of the Death Eaters who had fired upon Harry in the Great Hall were here, each with the same manic look in their eyes, wanting to inflict as much pain as possible on the one who killed their master. Harry stared back with as much defiance as he could muster, but inside he was terrified. He wasn't ready for this encounter, not yet. He only hoped his captors weren't as aware of his weakened state.

"Hold on a minute, it looks as though our guest wishes to speak." Prestwick waved her wand and Harry felt the muscles around his jaw loosen.

"These four were given to the Dementors!" he cried, hoping that speaking loudly could hide his terror but also attract the attention of anybody around. "Kingsley told me himself."

"You are correct that they were all to be kissed, however with me as the Head of Law Enforcement… well, let's just say there were a few things that slipped by Shacklebolt's notice." She laughed innocently. "Never trust a politician, Potter." Her eyes suddenly hardened.

"Now," she continued, "back to the business at hand –"

"Don't bother," Harry interrupted. "I've met maniacs like you before, I know how this goes. You're just another mad blood purist who wants to take over the Wizarding World!" Prestwick bristled at the interruption, but recovered quickly. She pulled out her wand slowly.

"You understand nothing, Potter."

Quicker than Harry had ever anticipated, Prestwick whirled on the spot and slashed her wand through the air. With no time for a cry of surprise, let alone a counter-curse, the four Death Eaters found themselves wandless and gagged, with four stunners in quick succession assuring they would not be interrupting anything anytime soon. Harry stared open mouthed as Prestwick turned back to him as though nothing had happened.

"Alright," he said slowly. "Perhaps I don't understand."

"Like just about everyone in my life, these idiots had no further purpose than getting me what I wanted. I won't bore you with my life story, Potter," Prestwick sighed, "but admittedly there are some important parts that will help your small mind piece things together.

"I am Muggle-born, abandoned by my parents during my first year at Hogwarts who claimed they could not possibly bring up a witch in their normal household. I was left with nothing except the clothes on my back and my school things. I grew bitter with the world. I no longer desired friendship, nor academics, failing to see my place in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't until my sister reached out to me that things made sense once more.

"She was a Muggle. My twin sister had no magic, so they took her from me as well. I learned years later from her that she and our parents had left the country my very first night at Hogwarts, moving to America to put as much distance between themselves and my abnormalities as possible. She never forgave them for it either, and so together we schemed and ruined their lives forever."

Harry listened on silently. He knew what it felt like to be seen as a freak by your own family. He knew the bitterness she was talking about; could he have ended up on a similar path had he never accepted friendship at school?

"As I began working at the Ministry, my sister trained to be a nurse in America. She moved from small town to small town, never quite happy with anywhere. We spoke of her moving back to England, but she never had the funds, and my minimal wage could hardly support her either. So there she stayed.

"I slowly moved up in the Ministry. Eventually I was important enough to sit in the Wizengamot just at the time You-Know-Who returned. I remember listening to the tales of destruction, knowing that it didn't make sense. It was Him who made me realise what needed to be done." She turned her full attention back to Harry.

"I know you think that everyone is out to get you, Potter, but believe me you are in my plans merely due to your convenience. The Wizarding World is tied to you so greatly that it made things far too easy for us to use you as our pawn.

"Something I am sure you are unaware of, is that the Unspeakables were working on a way for you to defeat You-Know-Who. They were developing a way to temporarily boost one's magical strength fifty-fold to be used on you before you finally faced him, but it was never stabilised. Anyone they trialled it on burnt out their magical core from having no way to release the sudden build-up of energy quickly enough. In the end it wasn't needed, but their research remained and I got hold of it. It was easy enough to set it on you that day of the final battle. Whilst my four foolish helpers here fired on you, I was there myself delivering the real blow. All it needed was some particular runes on my wand and the right inflection. A little extra nudging and influence and you landed exactly where I needed you: Forks, Washington – the current home of my dear sister, Suzanne."

Harry was stunned. He wondered if Dumbledore had known about these tests the Department of Mysteries had been running. How many people had been killed during its creation?

"Why didn't it kill me?" Harry asked.

"A couple of reasons. Firstly the runes had always been tailored to your magic, making it more compatible to you. But also you had an outlet; apparating such a distance was able to use most of the energy without leaving enough behind to kill you. Though I would be lying if I said there wasn't some risk it would kill you. A risk worth taking in my opinion.

"You would always have enough power for two trips. We never meant for you to go back to Forks after evading me at St Mungos, however it worked in our favour and was far sweeter to leave you stranded in America where my sister could keep a close eye on you.

"Suzanne has kept our plans on track. You almost ruined everything that night by leaving your hospital room in such a state. My sister very nearly came under suspicion for trying to clean the room before the police arrived, but we couldn't have anyone witnessing your magic so early in your stay; she would have deleted the footage of your disappearance even if you hadn't done it yourself." Prestiwck grinned madly at him.

"She's been watching you every step of the way, letting me know what you've been doing and who you associate with. She made certain you were admitted under her care. She's watched you at school and at home, following you everywhere you go. Looking at you now she was certainly right about one thing: you look like absolute hell. To think she actually managed to fool you into using that portkey I sent her. Tricked by my Muggle sister, dear me," she tittered, "that can't look good on the Chosen One's record."

Harry wanted to curse in frustration. Everything that had happened to him these past months was all because of this woman in front of him and her sister. If only he had pulled himself out of his depressive stupor earlier he might have noticed Suzanne following him around everywhere. He wondered why Edward hadn't said anything. Harry particularly cursed himself for his latest blunder, not reacting quicker upon realising who the nurse was and allowing himself to be sent back to London. If Suzanne Prestwick had been watching him that closely, were Bella and the Cullens safe? Did she know what they were?

"I still don't get what you want," he told her. "You say I'm just convenient, so then why I am here?"

"Now where's the fun in just telling you my plan?" She asked him kindly as she fingered her wand in her hands. Harry's attention went to the wand and he gasped.

"You have the Elder Wand," he whispered. "So that's what your plan is: to kill me so the wand works for you."

Prestwick just laughed. "Potter, if I had wanted you dead you would not still be here having this conversation. I don't need to kill you for this wand, because I am already its master." She smiled again at the confusion on his face. "Do you not remember Shacklebolt disarming you in his office? The action of disarming in such a scenario has little impact on ordinary wands, their ownership only changing with true intent to steal one's wand. The Elder Wand is far more delicate in its allegiance. Unknowingly, Shacklebolt became the true master of the Wand that morning, it only still working for you due to your lingering boosted magical energy. I was then able to sufficiently transfer that ownership from our dearly departed Minister to myself. It was all too easy," she finished with a broad smile.

"So you admit it, then," Harry demanded, his voice trembling slightly for the first time. "You murdered Kingsley."

"Dear me," Prestwick tittered, "have you learned nothing of me yet, Potter? Kingsley Shacklebolt was in my way. Due to no one's fault but his own, he needed to die, and so die he did. Believe me when I tell you I regret the waste of such power."

Harry would have been shaking with fury if he could. How dare she trivialise his murder.

"I assume your sister stole the wand from my house," he said bitterly.

"You assume correctly. It's a very foolish way to live with no security wards around your house, Potter. Suzanne tells me you've since changed that – better late than never, as they say." She smiled at him.

Harry groaned. It had been stupid to assume he was safe in America. When was there ever a time in his life that Harry didn't have someone wanting to hunt him down? It wouldn't have stopped her from becoming the wand's master, but at least it might have kept it out of her possession.

Suddenly a loud echoing voice came from somewhere nearby. Harry flicked his eyes around as best he could, not seeing anything suspicious. Prestwick, however, seemed to have been waiting for this voice, as she suddenly began to laugh. She came forwards and took Harry's wand out of his pocket, putting it into her own. She then used the Elder wand to guide him along the alleyway, Harry forced to follow closely behind her as she made her way to its opening. Prestwick then waved her wand, removing the body-bind curse and placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. The message was clear: go anywhere and you'll regret it.

Harry peered around the corner and frowned at what he saw. A large stage with a podium was set up in the middle of an open square, surrounded by hundreds of people. There were television cameras everywhere, and a large screen behind the podium showed the same scene Harry was currently gazing upon. There was a large man standing at the podium talking to the crowd, his voice magnified by the dozens of speakers around the stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, "before too long I'll be joined here on stage by the Prime Minister to make his scheduled international announcement." The gathered crowd broke out in polite applause.

Harry watched on in confusion. "What, are you going to kill the Prime Minister in front of all those people?"

"Where would be the elegance in that?" Prestwick murmured into his ear. "No, no, the Prime Minister will still be well and truly alive at the end of this. He only has to make a simple announcement, one that admittedly he wouldn't normally give without a little nudge, but that was easily arranged."

"He's imperiused," Harry guessed.

"Very good, Potter, perhaps you aren't as slow as you appear." They watched the crowd get more excited, the clapping growing louder as the Prime Minister made his way onto the stage. Harry was too far away to see properly, but he knew the man would have the clouded, glassy gaze of someone whose mind was not their own. Prestwick kept talking.

"You see, the Prime Minister was conveniently given a video last night from an anonymous benefactor in America. This video would have the ability to change the world, and what fortune it arrived the evening before his scheduled announcement being broadcast across the globe! This video shows a secret that every Prime Minister is instructed must never be told. Today, he will share that secret to the world by ways of a silly boy showing off his freaky powers all caught on tape. The revealing of our people who have been hidden for centuries is today: magic unveiled to Muggles, in all its glory."

Harry turned himself around and wrenched his shoulder out of Prestwick's grip, stumbling backwards away from her.

"You can't! The Statute of Secrecy –"

"Is unimportant!" She sneered. "The world is changing today, Potter, and there is no way for you to put a stop to it!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Prime Minister began, his voice booming around them. Harry watched on helplessly, Prestwick's firm grip back on his arm. "Today is a new day, the dawn of a new beginning for our country, and for our world." He looked around the crowd who had grown quiet at his pronouncement. "There is a secret," he said, "that has been kept hidden for centuries. There is a subculture of people, living among us, who are not like us. And today we have the proof." He gestured behind himself to the giant screen which presently showed his own face. The screen changed as a video began to load.

"You can't do this," Harry begged. "There's a reason the Muggles don't know about magic!"

"Be quiet! You know nothing of politics, Potter, this is necessary for our world."

Just as the first frame of the video appeared on the screen, it all went black. Seconds later, there was a small explosion off to the side of the stage and black smoke could be seen rising up off of what Harry suspected had once been a video player. Several people in the crowd cried out in shock, the Prime Minister staring around blankly at the commotion. Harry suddenly became aware of a low growl from over his shoulder.

"What did you do?!" She screamed into his ear before throwing him roughly to the ground. Harry was too startled to respond. Prestwick was furious, her wand still pointed at the very confused looking Prime Minister: she had broken the Imperius.

Security guards suddenly stormed the stage and escorted the Prime Minister away to safety while police were directing the crowd to leave. From where he still lay on the ground, Harry looked around trying to work out what had happened. Had it all been pure luck, or had someone stepped in to save the day?

"Harry!" A voice cried out from a long way away. Harry couldn't tell who it was or where it was coming from, but before he could look around, Prestwick had once again cast a body-bind curse and grabbed him, wrenching him to his feet. She began dragging him back towards the alleyway he had first appeared in.

"Harry!" The cry came again, this time closer. Harry couldn't even move his mouth to cry back, the body-bind curse having been applied fully once more. Prestwick continued to pull him further down the alley, his feet dragging as he was tugged along behind her.

"We're not done yet, Potter, so don't even think your little friend is going to save you." Suddenly someone appeared in the alley and began sprinting towards them.

"Let him go!" It was Bill Weasley. Harry tried to make a sound to yell back but nothing would come out. Bill raised his wand but Prestwick was faster.

" _Portus!"_ She cried. Harry could just make out a blue glow emanating from behind him.

"No! HARRY!" Before Bill could do anything, the portkey activated, the jerk behind Harry's navel pulling him away into the darkness once more.

* * *

They landed in a small clearing, Harry aware of the soft grass underneath him and the coolness of the air. It was night time, telling him they were likely somewhere back near Forks, though he couldn't be certain. He felt the body-bind curse lift but didn't have long to take advantage of his freedom.

" _Incarcerous!_ " Thick ropes erupted from the Elder wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. He tried to move his arms but he was too securely bound; he wasn't getting out of this. He watched warily as Prestwick strode around the clearing, her anger pouring off her in waves.

"You and your silly Order can't help but ruin everyone's plans, can you Potter? Do you not understand the importance of this? The _necessity_?" She conjured a small chair and sat down in it directly in front of Harry. "You and I are very alike, Potter," she said simply.

"I'm nothing like you," Harry spat, though his voice betrayed his inner emotions. He and Prestwick did have similarities; he just didn't like to think about what that meant.

"Both of us were brought up by Muggles who hated the world of magic. Your Muggles never gave you the chance, but I had been happy once; magic took away my family and my life, something I've had to live with since I was eleven. My own sister was taken from me – they thought they were protecting themselves. It was _fear_ that made them run.

"Don't you see what prejudices have done?" She asked, leaning forwards. "How much better our lives would have been if Muggles knew of magic – _understood_ it – and we lived together in peace? Think of what we lost, Potter, of what could have been. Both of us could have had that happiness, but we didn't. Can't you see? That's the peace I can bring."

Harry stared at her in disbelief.

"You're insane if you think there would be peace if the Muggles knew of magic. They would be terrified! Think how much worse Voldemort would have been if Muggles knew who he was! Muggles would turn their armies against us – try to control us out of fear."

"Ridiculous," she scoffed. "We could help them – advance them like they couldn't begin to dream. You've ridden the fringe like me, Potter, you don't belong in either world and you know it. Can't you understand that with the worlds combined, _you would belong_! You would fit in better than anyone!"

"You're delusional," Harry cried.

"Oh? You're worthless to the wizarding world. All they ever wanted from you was a solution to their problems. Just look at them – you save their miserable lives before you have to flee in order to save your own and they accuse you of being the next Dark Lord. They think you murdered Kingsley. You owe them nothing, Potter, and if you think that they ever cared about you as a person then it's you who is the delusional one," Prestwick finished, now leaning so close to him that Harry could feel the spittle on his face.

Harry didn't want to believe her, but it was true. The wizarding world only ever needed him to get rid of Voldemort for them, and once he'd done that they'd turned their backs on him. Even when promised privacy by those he thought cared the most, he was told to return and help them once more. _His duty_. It seemed he would never be rid of it. He had told himself none of it was his fault, that the deaths of his friends were because of Voldemort, but he couldn't deny this truth; the wizarding world didn't care for him. They never had and likely, Harry knew, they never would.

"Don't you see what I'm offering you?" Prestwick continued gently, recognising the defeat and acceptance on Harry's face. "This could free you from that – free you from the terrible things of your past. _You_ can help me bring wizards and Muggles together so that no child has to grow up like you and me. Muggle born students would be prepared for their futures. No family would need split due to fear and uncertainty like mine. No more hiding in the darkness – we belong in the light, and you can help us get there."

Could she be right? It was true enough that Muggle-born students were disadvantaged from the beginning, coming into a terrifying world at the age of eleven that they never knew existed. If Muggles knew about magic, then they could recognise the signs if their child were a witch or wizard and they could grow up preparing for their future. He thought of Hermione – would she have wanted to know earlier? How terrified she must have been to not understand what was happening to her as a small child with accidental magic. More terrified than he had been, he was sure.

Harry looked at Prestwick who was watching him expectantly. He didn't remember what it was like having the love of his parents, but he could understand her bitterness at the abandonment of her own. As a small child, Harry would have done anything to make the Dursleys accept him as their own son, never having understood why they didn't care for him. Would life have been easier, or would it have been even harder without magic?

One thing was certain: the Dursleys had known about magic thanks to Aunt Petunia. Being brought up in a Muggle house that knew about the wizarding world hadn't made Harry's life any easier; in fact, it had made it harder. Maybe that might have helped Prestwick's childhood, Harry couldn't be sure, but he knew for a fact it had made his life worse. And that's why he could never do what she asked of him.

"No," he said simply. "We belong exactly where we are: in the shadows, keeping to ourselves. Muggles knowing about magic is what made my childhood so rubbish in the first place. I'm not going to risk bringing that same fate to others." He stared at her defiantly.

Prestwick glared at him. "I see," she said. She leant back in her chair, never taking her unblinking eyes off him. Harry held her gaze putting as much strength as he could into his eyes. He could not appear weak in this moment.

"I didn't want it to come to this, Potter, but you leave me no choice." She stood up from her seat and pulled out the Elder wand from her pocket. Giving him a crooked smile, she turned on the spot and disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Harry alone.

"What –"

 _CRACK_

As quickly as she had disappeared, Prestwick returned, this time with a guest. The hostage was bound and gagged, her face screwed up in pain or distress Harry could not tell – probably both, he thought helplessly. His heart sank as he looked into the fearful eyes of Prestwick's prisoner and his friend.

"Either you help my sister and me reveal magic to the Muggles, or Isabella Swan dies."


	39. Chapter 38

_Earlier_

' _This is one of the most intricate pieces of coding I've ever seen.'_

' _Ugh, that's not it. I don't want to know what_ that _video was.'_

' _The poor dear, why can't the world give Harry a break?'_

Voices and were running rampant through Edward's head, most of them not his own. It had been almost an hour since Carlisle and Harry had gone to the hospital, the rest of them having spent the time tracing the damning video online. Thankfully, from what they'd found, it hadn't spread too far, but Jasper was still yet to take it down which would only give it more time to disperse. Edward knew Jasper believed he was close, but every minute could prove costly.

Carlisle had sent them one message twenty minutes earlier to say they had made it safely to the security room, but that he still hadn't worked out the owner of the faint scent left behind. Edward wasn't pleased to learn that Harry wasn't with him having gone back to Carlisle's office to search for possible names. Carlisle admitted he hadn't liked their split either, but believed Harry could take care of himself.

"Found any more copies of it?" Bella's voice broke through the constant chatter in Edward's head. She was sat beside him, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen he had been working at. He took her hand and began to play with it absentmindedly.

"Not for a while, no," he answered. "None of us have found any recently, and Jasper's just about there with removing it for good."

"That's good," Bella sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "I wonder if Harry will ever get a quiet life."

"The world seems to have it in for him, doesn't it?"

"At least he's got Carlisle back. He already seems so much better in just a couple of days," she said happily. Edward nodded.

"Those two seem to understand each other in a way that helps them both; Carlisle is always happier after their chats, too." His thoughts drifted back to Thanksgiving when they had all spent the whole day together. It had been the most light-hearted they had seen Harry, his happiness infecting everyone around him. Since making up with Harry, Carlisle had returned to his cheerful self as well. Seeing everyone having fun together made Edward immeasurably happy, but there was a shred of doubt and sadness with it. His feelings must have caused his shoulders to tense as Bella lifted her head and frowned at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

"When I found Harry he was waiting at an airport," Edward began. He hadn't ever really gone into detail of how he'd found Harry or what they'd spoken about; it had stayed between the two of them as a pact of silence they never addressed. "He told me that he had to go back sometime, but not until he's ready. I was just thinking –" Edward hesitated. "I was thinking about the future, when Harry does go home… do you think he'll ever come back?"

It was something that had been worrying Edward since having found Harry and bringing him back to Forks. Seeing him seriously consider leaving had reminded him that Harry _did_ have another home that wasn't here in Forks with them. He had become so used to his presence and accent that the abrupt reminder had shaken him. Would Harry still need them once he was fully healed and surrounded by his loved ones again in England? He had spoken of his late friend Ron's family in particular having taken him under their wing; would Harry want to split his love between two continents?

"What?" Bella gasped. "Harry wouldn't leave us for good! Would he?" Edward watched the worry seep into her eyes as she bit down on her lip. He regretted voicing his concerns at once.

"No," he quickly denied, "I'm sure he'd visit. It doesn't exactly take him long to get here, does it?" He tried to put a reassuring smile on his face. "Let's not make new worries for ourselves just now. We can do that after we know Harry's identity is safe." Bella nodded in acceptance, a look of unease still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak but the ringing of Edward's phone interrupted her. He answered it and put it on speaker for Bella's sake.

"Carlisle, what's happening?"

"I've done it!" Jasper suddenly called from elsewhere in the house. A collective sigh of relief escaped from everyone.

" _Well done, Jasper,"_ Carlisle praised. _"I know who it is – the scent – I've worked it out."_ Edward could hear his father's footsteps in the background. _"It was one of the nurses, a Suzanne Prestwick."_

Edward glanced at Bella with a frown. "Prestwick? But I know that name. That's –"

" _The woman who's Minister for Magic in Harry's world, yes. A relative, I believe, it can't be the same woman."_ Edward listened to Carlisle's footsteps quicken. _"I haven't heard from Harry since we parted; I'm heading back to my office to find him. Hopefully he hasn't gone looking for her himself."_

Edward and Bella exchanged a concerned look. If Carlisle hadn't heard from Harry since they split, that was well over half an hour ago. The rest of the family had joined them in the room, each one of them with similar looks of unease.

A sharp intake of breath came from over the phone.

"What is it?" Edward demanded.

" _She's been here,"_ he murmured. _"Just outside my office her scent is strong, as is Harry's. Neither of them are here."_

Seven gasps filled the room. Emmett was the first to speak.

"Is this nurse magic? Is she a witch?"

" _I don't know,"_ Carlisle admitted. _"I don't believe so. Her scent is ordinary compared to Harry's and even that woman who came to speak to him at our house. I would say she has no magic."_

"So she's taken him on foot then?" Edward asked, already on his feet.

" _So it would appear. I need some of you to come and help me cover more ground. Esme, would you stay at the house in case Harry somehow finds his way there?"_

"Of course, dear," she said, her voice far steadier than her thoughts Edward could hear.

"We'll be there in a minute, Carlisle," Edward said and ended the call. "Bella, come on, I'm taking you home."

"What?" she cried. "Shouldn't I stay here in case Harry comes?"

"That's why Esme's staying. We'll need you at your house in case Harry ends up closer to your place and makes his way there." They headed outside, the others already sprinting off to the hospital. "Besides, the last thing we need is for Charlie to notice you missing." He kept walking towards the trees, away from the garage full of cars.

"Fine then. Why aren't we going to the car?"

"No time," he said. "Have I given you a piggyback yet?" He grinned madly at her, slinging her up onto his back. She shrieked as Edward sprinted through the trees. Edward tried to take the smoothest path possible, but Bella still kept her head tucked firmly into his neck. It only took them a few minutes to reach her house, and a few more after that for Edward to detach Bella from him. Edward grabbed onto her waist and leapt right up to her bedroom window, helping her in. He could hear Charlie's snores down the hall.

"You'll let me know as soon as you know anything, won't you?" Bella asked. Edward could see she was terribly worried about Harry. The fact it seemed he hadn't been able to use his magic to get away was weighing heavily on all of them.

"Of course. Likewise if you find him or hear anything odd you'll call me?" She nodded. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Bella agreed. "Soon." She gave him a shaky smile as he dropped to the ground outside and sprinted off to join his family.

It didn't take him long to reach the hospital where he found Carlisle waiting outside.

"No sign of Harry on your way over?" he asked, a deep frown of concern on his face. Edward shook his head. "Come inside then – the others are in there familiarising themselves with Prestwick's scent." Carlisle turned on the spot and quickly headed through the back entrance, Edward following close on his heels.

In no time at all they were at Carlisle's office, the rest of Edward's siblings gathered inside. Edward took in a deep breath; he could easily identify Harry, his scent stronger inside the office as well as in the corridor. The other scent, however, Edward found harder to distinguish. There was definitely no trace of magic in it, and despite its thickness in the air it didn't seem to be as novel as he felt it should. Thinking hard, Edward sat down at Carlisle's desk and began flicking through Harry's file which had been left open. Carlisle closed the door.

"There's no sign of her or Harry past this corridor," he began, addressing them all like his soldiers. "I've run the perimeter already at a narrow radius and neither of their scents lead away from the hospital at all. She and Harry appear to have vanished from inside the hospital."

"She must have taken him somewhere – used one of those glowing transporter things if she's not magic herself," Jasper mused. They all exchanged glances; if Suzanne had taken Harry away using magic, he could be anywhere between Forks and England.

"That seems to be the case, yes," Carlisle agreed.

Edward was only half paying attention to what was being said around him. He was trying to let Suzanne's scent invade his thoughts, because he knew that he recognised it. He continued to look through Harry's medical file, stopping to pause at each S. Prestwick signature. Being back inside this office also sent Edward's memories back to when he first met Harry and how adamant he had been that his family should leave Forks. Edward wondered how things would have turned out if his family had listened to him that day.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh. Why couldn't he place the scent? And why was he having so much trouble holding onto it? It was almost as bland as some of his classmates at school, many of whom he had desensitised himself to after being around them every day. That's what this felt like – like his sense of smell had recognised this as something familiar that he shouldn't bother worrying about. But he _should_ be worrying about it; this woman had taken Harry somewhere they couldn't easily follow. Perhaps they ought to get Artemis out again…

And then it hit him.

His mind raced back to when he stood outside Harry's house with Bella as they went to find Artemis. Suzanne's scent had been there. It was always in Harry's neighbourhood – Edward had assumed it would just belong to another resident on the street. But that's not the only place he knew it. He was sure – he was _certain_ – that he had smelled it near Bella's house as well. His mind had catalogued it as familiar because it _was_. He had been smelling it every day for months now.

"Edward, what's wrong?" Carlisle's voice came from a thousand miles away, drawing him back into the present. Five sets of golden eyes were fixed on him.

"We were wrong," Edward whispered. "She's been watching the whole time – following us." He stared at his father without seeing him. "She knows who Harry's friends are."

"Edward, what are you talking about?"

 _She knows his friends._

"She knows that she's involved!" His voice was finally catching up to what his mind had quickly put together. "She's not safe – Bella. Suzanne's going to use her to hurt Harry."

Not caring who might see him, Edward sprinted from the office, hoping against all odds that he wasn't too late.

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

Bella lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling. She was exhausted but she knew she would not be getting any sleep tonight; not until she knew what had happened to Harry. Her insides squirmed with worry and helplessness – she hated not being able to contribute anything to the Cullens' search. She had always tried her best not to let it get to her, but as an ordinary human surrounded by vampires and a wizard, Bella couldn't help but feel useless. Edward had tried talking to her about it, but she had brushed him off, assuring him that it didn't worry her. Unable to read her mind, Edward had not been able to prove otherwise, and so had let it be.

She had, of course, been lying through her teeth.

She loved both Harry and Edward dearly, a feeling that had begun to spread to the rest of the Cullens as well. Harry had become the brother she'd never had; she loved being able to offer him help and friendship when he'd had nobody else, and now as he was healing every smile on his face filled Bella with immeasurable joy.

Edward, meanwhile, had become more important to her than she ever could have expected. It felt like years ago that she had suspected Edward of involvement in the disappearance of a foreign boy from the Forks hospital and the mistrust that she had felt towards him. Now she couldn't imagine her life without him, a fact that made her terrified of the future.

There were times when the differences between the three of them slipped from all their minds, allowing them a few moments of uninhibited companionship and equality. All it would take to break that is a casual mention of Harry's magic, or a lightning fast movement from Edward and the reality of their differences would crash around Bella, bringing themselves to the forefront of her mind once again.

She frowned at herself; how could she be thinking of her own insecurities at a time like this? Her best friend was missing, likely kidnapped and in incredible danger, and here she was moping to herself about not having fancy powers. She had done her best to hide her anxieties from her friends, particularly Harry. He was the one who needed everyone's focus, now more than ever. When Harry was safe – and _only_ when Harry was safe – would she dwell on this again, and perhaps talk with Edward.

Bella flung herself off her bed and began to pace her room, rubbing her arms as she did so to try and create some warmth. She'd left her window open in the hope that if Harry did turn up she would be able to hear his arrival quickly, and a cool breeze was blowing in sending chills down her spine. None of them knew what sort of state to expect Harry in when they did eventually find him. No one had dared voice the very real possibility that they would be too late to help.

A snap of a twig outside drew a startled gasp from Bella's lips. She rushed to her window and looked out into the dark street looking for any sign of Harry. Her breath fogging in the freezing air, Bella shivered. There was no indication that anybody was outside, least of all Harry. She was about to pull her head back inside when something on her driveway caught her eyes. It was far too dark to be able to see clearly what it was, and Bella found herself feeling apprehensive. Was it something dangerous?

She pondered calling Edward, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He was busy searching for Harry, something that needed his full attention. He had told her to let him know if Harry turned up, but otherwise, she figured, it was best to leave him and his family to their job. No, she thought, best to leave them alone and leave mysterious object alone too.

Bella dug around in her drawer for a few moments until she extracted a large flashlight. Looking outside again, she pointed the beam of light at the suspicious object only for her to let out another small gasp. There was what appeared to be a book sitting in the middle of her driveway, and sitting on top something small and reflective. Bella's heart jammed in her throat as she realised what it was: Harry's glasses.

Snatching her coat off its hook, Bella ripped open her bedroom door and hurried down the stairs as quietly as she could manage. She carefully turned the knob of her front door and let herself outside. Her bare feet were freezing as they padded across the icy concrete. She fell to her knees beside the book and glasses, reaching into her pocket for her phone; she had to tell Edward. She cursed herself upon finding her pockets empty; she'd left her phone back upstairs.

Bella reached out tentatively to pick up the glasses, but froze as a bright blue light came from somewhere to her left. Instinctively she leapt to her feet, sweeping the flashlight towards where the blinding glow had come from. There was nobody there. She could feel her heart pounding in her temples, the beam from her flashlight wobbling as her hands shook from the cold and fear. Bella knew she needed to get back inside and call Edward, so she forced her legs to cooperate and slowly backed towards the book and glasses; she'd take the glasses inside to show Edward. Bella wondered what had happened to Harry for him to have had his glasses stolen.

Keeping her eyes forward, Bella reached back with her hand, groping around for the glasses. Her hand brushed the book and she crept her fingers along its spine until she found the thin wire frame of Harry's glasses. As soon as she got a good purchase on them, Bella felt a sudden lurch around her stomach as a bright blue light engulfed her. Too surprised to call out, Bella watched as her house disappeared from in front of her to be replaced by a dark clearing in the middle of nowhere.

Still hunched down on the ground, Bella was too terrified to move and so never stood a chance against the heavy blow on the back of her skull. Darkness crept into her vision and she was gone to the world.

* * *

Bella woke with the feeling her head was bursting to split open. She tried to clutch it with her hand but found that her body was not following her orders. Willing herself into full awareness, Bella tried again to move her arms, only to find them still unmoving. As she rolled over slightly, she worked out that her arms had been tied tightly to her side.

Her eyes flew open in terror. Her surroundings were almost pitch black, the only light in the clearing given from the large moon above. All she could make out were the giant trees that surrounded her, unable to see anything past them. Her head pounded and she was freezing, her bare feet numb with cold from the frost covering the grass she was sat upon. She groggily tried to remember what had happened.

She remembered being at her house – _outside_ her house. She had found something, something important. But what? She winced in pain as she shifted her head slightly. She had no doubt she had some kind of concussion; where was Carlisle when she needed him?

"Miss Swan, how kind of you to join me." The soft voice came from right behind her, making Bella jump in surprise. It took all of her strength not to cry out in pain and fear. She heard soft footsteps to her right as the owner of the voice walked to stand in front of her. Bella looked up into the eyes of her captor, struggling to make out any details except the large baseball bat in the woman's hand.

"Who are y–you?" Bella asked, her voice trembling.

"I think you know who I am, dear," the woman replied. In a different, non-life-threatening scenario, Bella would have found the woman's voice sweet and peaceful. As it were…

"You're Suzanne," she replied, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. "You took Harry. Where is he?!" Her mind finally catching up to what had been happening, Bella managed to fight past the pain in her skull and the fear in her heart.

"Elsewhere," Suzanne said simply. "Harry Potter is presently with my sister being well looked after, I promise. Mr Potter is very important to our cause, we don't mean him any harm." The kindness in her voice terrified Bella more than if she had spat the words in wrath.

"What do you need me for?" Bella knew she was only here because of her friendship with Harry, but she couldn't understand her role in their grand scheme.

Suzanne didn't answer immediately. Instead Bella watched as her silhouette stepped back and reached down to the ground. A bright light suddenly filled Bella's face as her own flashlight was shone into her eyes. The flashlight was set upon the ground, lighting the woman in front of her. When the flash had disappeared from her eyes, Bella finally could make out her captor.

She was tall, accentuated by Bella's current position on the ground, and strongly built. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties or forties, the hairs by her ears beginning to lighten to grey from their usual dark shade. Surprisingly, her features were kind; Bella had half expected a long nose with a wart on the end. Unfortunately for her, though, this wasn't a fairy-tale.

"It's not easy, is it?" Suzanne queried, giving no indication she intended to answer Bella's question. "Being the one with nothing special to give? No magic in your blood." She paced just outside the beam of the flashlight, the baseball bat hanging limply at her side. "I've never been bitter of my sister's abilities, I love her too dearly for such childish nonsense. I found it far more worthwhile to focus my hatred on those who kept us apart. It's a shame, Isabella, that you do not share my maturity over the matter." She stopped pacing and glanced down at Bella, sighing sadly.

"What are you talking about?" Bella was finding it difficult to focus on the conversation. Her head was still pounding and she was too busy trying to wiggle her hands free. It was all for naught.

"I have been watching you and Harry so very closely these past months. I feel like I know all about you, dear – the awkwardness of your relationship with your father, your love of anything quiet and relaxing despite befriending the most troublesome person Forks has ever seen. Not to forget of course your growing animosity toward Harry's magic and your own… plainness." Suzanne shook her head with a look of deep sadness on her face. Bella could feel herself flushing.

"I _don't_ hate Harry," she said firmly.

"Oh no, dear, I didn't mean to upset you!" The fluffy kindness was back, the constant changes in attitude giving Bella whiplash. "I know you don't hate your friend, but you hate his magic and, horribly, you hate yourself as well." Suzanne made a sudden shushing noise as though to stop Bella's argument. "No, stop, I understand. You have no worth at all. That boyfriend of yours is only with you out of pity; even without magic or anything special himself he's in a league well above yours, my dear. But surely you must realise that everybody pities you, and as soon as they grow bored you'll be left alone once again."

Bella stared defiantly at the grass, determined to not let the tears fall. It sounded disgusting said out loud, but Suzanne was right; not one of the things she said had not crossed Bella's mind in the past few weeks. She had surrounded herself with people who were just better than her – that was the truth of it. How could Bella ever amount to anything when she compared herself with people like that? But Suzanne was right: soon enough Harry would be happy enough to go home. Perhaps at first he'd still visit but soon enough he would find his place back in the wizarding world and stay there. As for the Cullens, Bella knew they couldn't stay in one place forever to avoid raising suspicion. Eventually they'd have to leave as well, leaving Bella behind just like Suzanne promised.

"You're wrong," Bella said, though her words were empty. She knew that she couldn't dwell on her own insecurities right now. She needed to keep her wits about her if she was going to find out anything more about where Harry was being kept. "Tell me where Harry is."

 _SMACK_

Bella fell sideways in a heap, the blow across her face coming as a complete shock. She lay with her eyes squeezed shut, the harsh sting on her cheek adding to the throbbing pain in her skull. Bella had been proud that she had held herself together during Suzanne's verbal attack, but this demeaning physical assault was what caused the first tear to streak down her face.

"Oh dear," Suzanne cooed, "I'm so terribly sorry, but you were making me angry. You see, it isn't polite to make demands of your elders like you did. That's why I needed to punish you, sweetheart." The repulsive sweetness in her voice brought more tears to Bella's eyes.

"No one is coming for you, Isabella. Harry is a little preoccupied and your father and boyfriend are probably fast asleep at this late hour. You're all alone. What good practice this will make for your future," she finished happily.

Bella's eyes opened sluggishly at Suzanne's words about Edward. Did she not know they were vampires? Bella dared to hope – maybe they had one up on the Prestwicks.

 _CRACK_

The sound like a gunshot couldn't even rise Bella from her prone position she was in so much pain. Footsteps approached them.

"Wonderful work, my dear sister." The other Prestwick had joined them.

"Isabella has been difficult, but with some tough love I think we've learned our lesson, haven't we Isabella?" Bella did not respond as the two women began to laugh. She glanced up, seeing the two of them standing in the beam of the flashlight glaring down at her. It was obvious they were sisters, though Suzanne had definitely aged the worse of the two. They both had the same manipulative smile, though while Suzanne's eyes masked her inner evil with kindness, the other Prestwick's eyes were as cold and unfeeling as Bella knew her to be.

"Isabella will be coming with me now," Prestwick said, waving her wand at Bella who flinched back. She let out a startled grunt as a thick rope tied around her jaw, effectively gagging her silent. "Take this, sister." Bella watched on as the witch handed over a large rock. "It will return you to your work. I will come find you when the next step is ready to begin."

Suzanne smiled lovingly and reached out for the rock.

"Thank-you for spending some time with me, Isabella. The next time we meet the world will be a very different place." She grabbed the rock and disappeared in a flash of blue light. Prestwick's eyes shifted down to where Bella still lay.

"Time for you to take your starring role." Prestwick bent down and roughly grabbed the back of Bella's shirt. She gave a great pull and suddenly Bella was being squeezed from all sides in the compressive darkness. As quickly as it came, the pressure released and Bella could feel the cold grass beneath her legs again. Held up in a kneeling position by the scruff of her neck, Bella could feel the tip of Prestwick's wand pointing into her temple. The tears almost began again as she realised she was sitting eye to eye with Harry who, like her, was also bound in thick ropes. Seeing him stare at her with wide eyes behind his wire-framed glasses caused Bella's stomach to drop unexpectedly; it hadn't been Harry's glasses on her driveway. She'd been fooled. Prestwick's voice broke through her distress, and made her blood run cold.

"Either you help my sister and me reveal magic to the Muggles, or Isabella Swan dies."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! First off thank you for the continued reviews and support. I haven't gotten around to replying to many recently due to hectic real world but I hope to do so soon! Nevertheless it is all appreciated very much!**

 **Right into the climax now and not long left of this story (woah). I'm looking for requests as to ideas for oneshots of events in this story that were not played out in chapters. I'm hoping to complete some of those after this finishes as currently there is no immediate plans for a sequel (though this could change if I am struck by a plot).**

 **Again, thanks so very much for the support. See you at the finish line!**


	40. Chapter 39

"Either you help my sister and me reveal magic to the Muggles, or Isabella Swan dies."

Harry stared into Bella's dark eyes in fear. They had a slightly dazed look and he could see blood on the side of her neck. There was a red glowing handprint on her tear streaked cheek. Fury tore through him seeing the pain she had been put through by the Prestwicks. If they had used magic on her…

"Let Bella go," he demanded. "She has nothing to do with this!"

Prestwick just laughed. "No, Potter, you don't make the demands here, I do. Besides, it's far more amusing to see your anger and pain. Your pesky friends always were your weakness, and this one's even weaker than the others; at least Weasley and Granger could defend themselves. This one's pathetic even for a Muggle."

Harry watched as Bella began struggling to keep her eyes open; every few seconds her lids would begin to lower before snapping back open as the situation sank back in. Harry could feel his blood boiling at Prestwick's words.

"All I require of you is your assistance, Potter. Agree to a binding magical contract, help me liberate wizard-kind, and Miss Swan shall be released with no further harm."

Colour drained from Harry's face; a binding magical contract? To free Bella, Harry would have to sell his freedom to this woman hell-bent on revealing magic. There would be no choice – he would be contractually obliged to help her bring the inevitable downfall of the wizarding world, and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. But who was he to sell Bella's life for his own freedom?

"Why can't you use someone else? There must be someone who shares your insane goals, you don't need me or Bella," Harry argued, trying to wriggle his hands behind his back but they were locked tight against him.

"Because I know how you work and that you would never let me go free," she replied frankly. "Anyone who ends up on your bad-side, Potter, always ends up on the wrong side of justice."

"Then kill me," Harry blurted, his heart hammering in his chest. "Get rid of me and I won't be able to stop you. Just leave Bella out of this." Prestwick stared at him for a long time, as though calculating what to make of him. The prolonged silence only made Harry's heart beat harder.

"No, I don't think so," Prestwick eventually said slowly. "Your pesky Order would be after me even more than they already are if I were to kill you. Best to keep you alive and on my side."

"But they'd be after the both of us if I helped you," he countered.

"But you have _sway_ , Potter," Prestwick stressed, coming down almost to his eye level. "Think about what I can do for your tarnished image. With the Ministry on your side, I can grant you forgiveness. The public will listen to what you say; if you think we need to reveal magic then you can make them agree. Think of the peace of mind you could have if you were doing something that everyone could agree on?" She stared at him with her eyes shining, picturing what she saw to be a bright future.

Harry was at a loss as to what to do. He knew, and wasn't stupid enough to deny it, that it was usually at this point in time that some incredible form of luck occurred in the form of someone else saving the day, or some unheard of piece of magic taking place. If Harry were being honest with himself, it seemed unlikely that either of those would happen this time. He wondered where the Cullens were and how far he and Bella were from Forks. Would they be able to track them down? Harry wasn't sure seeing as magic had been used to get them both to the clearing. Somehow he was going to have to work this one out alone.

"Say I did help you," Harry blurted suddenly, "how would it work?" He had no idea what he was doing. He was buying time, but what for? There was a small sliver of hope burning inside him that the Cullens would find them. If he could just keep Prestwick talking…

"The two of us would return to Britain where I would exonerate you in front of the wizarding world. Once they know that you didn't murder Kingsley and you aren't the next Dark Lord they will hail you as the hero you are: the Chosen One who finally rid the world of Voldemort. From there I will take you under my wing, show you to the right crowds and the right people, steadily spreading our message about the need to reveal magic. Once we sow the seed of doubt, we'll have no problem in convincing the world the change must happen."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "But I know how Kingsley died. _You_ murdered him! Am I supposed to just let that go? To not be concerned that the Minister for Magic killed her predecessor in cold blood?" The thought of working with someone who had murdered such a great man sickened Harry to the core.

"You will if you want nothing to happen to Isabella," Prestwick sneered, pressing the tip of her wand once more into Bella's temple. His friend had just about closed her eyes, blearily gazing at Harry. Prestwick was supporting all of her weight by the scruff of her neck, Bella too weak to hold herself upright. Harry didn't know anything about head injuries except what he'd experienced himself at school. Frankly, he was impressed she was still conscious at all, but he knew that she would need medical attention soon, the longer she waited the worse her outcome could be.

"I could never work with a killer like you," he shook his head defiantly. "And you won't hurt Bella anymore."

"Confident are we?" She threw Bella down to the ground and his friend didn't move again. Prestwick began to pace. "You don't understand anything here, Potter. This is what it looks like to be completely at someone's mercy. I am the only one in a position to be making demands and ultimatums," she turned her back on him, and that was when it happened.

A sudden but silent breeze passed behind him, a quick jerk of his arms almost causing him to fall forwards. It was all over as suddenly it had begun, Prestwick noticing nothing, still talking with her back to him. It was only when Harry tried to settle himself again, did he realise his arms were free from their binding. He whipped his head to the side where his rescuer had sprinted, but could see nothing in the penetrating darkness of the trees beyond.

"– learn things the hard way, don't you?" Prestwick turned back to look at him, Harry quickly grasping the ends of the rope behind him so they wouldn't fall out of place. His heart was beating rapidly; the Cullens had found them. The final fight was coming, Harry could sense it.

"You just never give up, Prestwick," Harry said, confidence now filling him. "Don't you get it? You and your sister can't win; the bad guys never do and this time you're the bad guys. We will stop you, just like we have everybody else."

Prestwick's eyes narrowed in anger. She strode purposefully to where Harry still kneeled on the ground causing him to lean back in the hope she wouldn't notice the slack ropes around him. She didn't come down to his level, instead using her huge stature to tower over him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of craning his neck to look at her. Instead he fixed his gaze on Bella who was now behind Prestwick, still unmoving on the ground.

"Don't get cocky with me, Potter," Prestwick said coldly. "You're all alone with no one to save you this time, or did you forget that little detail?" Harry stared only at Bella, the subtle rise and fall of her chest the only sign she was still alive.

He couldn't feel the breeze this time, but he clearly saw the silent blur move from the trees to Bella's side. Edward came to a sudden stop by her side, the pain and worry evident on his face. He quietly gathered Bella into his arms and stood, giving Harry a reassuring nod before dashing back into the trees. Harry felt tension leave his shoulders; Bella would be safe.

"– and you will obey me, or shall I remind you of what my sister did to Miss Swan?" Prestwick turned around and froze in place. Harry took a deep breath, not sure what to expect to happen.

"What did you do?" She whispered. "What did you do?!" Prestwick spun around to Harry again and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shaking him vigorously. He gripped the two ends of the rope as tightly as he could behind him; he still didn't have his wand. A white hot pain suddenly erupted on the side of his face as Prestwick slapped him and sent him sprawling to the ground, his glasses flying from his face. He couldn't help let go of the ropes, but Prestwick had turned to go over to where Bella had been lying.

" _My wand is in her pocket,"_ Harry whispered as he felt around for his glasses. He hoped that one of the Cullens was still around to hear him. He didn't know if Edward had been here alone or if the rest of them were hiding. If they _were_ hiding, Harry couldn't help wonder what the hell they were waiting for. He felt his hand brush against his glasses and quickly put them back on, all pretence of still being tied up abandoned. Prestwick, having apparently found no sign of Bella, pulled out her wand and turned to look at Harry, more shock registering on her face at seeing him on his feet with his arms free. The shock was quickly replaced by fury as she lifted her wand into the air.

" _Locomotor mortis!"_ Harry dove to the side, feeling the curse fly over his head. He scrambled back to his feet as Prestwick prepared to fire off another curse. Where the hell were the Cullens? He ducked as another jet of light passed through the air where his head had just been, Prestwick having switched to silent spells. Harry bolted into the tree line, trying to put as many trunks as possible between himself and Prestwick's wand.

"If anyone else is here to help me, now would be a perfect time to show yourself!" He hissed into the darkness. He vaguely remembered that Prestwick still had his invisibility cloak, that with a silencing spell she could sneak up on him with him being none the wiser. His wand was still back with her as well and it was going to be hard to get it back if he had to keep running away to safety.

The silence of the forest was unsettling, every rustle and snapping twig making Harry whip his head around. He knew the Cullens could be perfectly silent if they wanted to be, and Prestwick could as well. Harry wondered how many eyes were watching him sweat.

He froze as the tip of a wand dug into his neck.

"Move and it will be the last thing you ever do," Prestwick purred into his ear. He could see nothing so he assumed she was using his cloak. "Turn back and march." And Harry did as he was told. As he walked he considered turning around and trying to fight her, but she was far bigger than him _and_ she had her wand. He'd be dead in a heartbeat.

Far too soon they were back in the clearing. Prestwick forced Harry to his knees and held her wand at the back of his skull. He knew that Carlisle or someone would have stepped in by now if they were here, proving to Harry that he was just as alone as he felt. There was no two ways around it:

Harry was going to die.

His teeth began to chatter as the fear set in. It was this revelation that truly made Harry aware of just how much he had improved mentally since arriving in Forks; he no longer begged for death as he had to Carlisle in the forest so many months ago. Since then he'd found friends in Edward and Bella, and a real confidant in Carlisle. He'd come to Forks running out of fear and anger, only to be reminded that there could still be good in the world and that he did not have to blame himself for the world's devastation. He had learned that there was always something to live for and now, faced with death once again, Harry knew he wasn't ready to die.

"It's unfortunate that it's come to this, Harry," the use of his first name sent another chill down his spine, "but you've proven that you're too much of a nuisance to keep alive. It's a shame, really. I know we would have made an unbeatable team. I don't know how you managed to save Isabella, but I'm sure that last thought will comfort you in death. So let me give you another one to ponder.

"You haven't been told everything about that day at the Final Battle when you left and apparated to America for the first time. Haven't you wondered why everyone died? Why suddenly they weren't protected by your sacrificial love? When you abandoned them the love protection you had put on everyone broke. There was nothing left to stop those curses from killing all of your friends – nothing to stop my _Obliviate_ from wiping the mind of that silly girl Granger. So if you've been wondering, Potter, about whether it was all your fault, then let me answer that very simply for you. Yes. So tell me, Potter, why do you deserve to live?"

Harry's blood ran cold at Prestwick's words. Was it true? Had his leaving really been the reason for everyone's death? He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body to not tremble. He tried to recite the words of his innocence in his head, but he found himself unable to remember how they began. Maybe he did deserve to die…

"He deserves to live," said a voice from Harry's right, "because he is a remarkable young man with his whole future ahead of him." Despite Prestwick's warning to keep still, Harry couldn't help whip his head around to watch Carlisle stride into the clearing, his hands clasped behind his back.

"And who are you, leech?" Harry could sense the hint of trepidation in Prestwick's voice; Carlisle's presence and immortality had caught her off guard.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen," he replied kindly as though introducing himself to a new patient. "As I understand it your name is Prestwick." Harry could still feel Prestwick's wand pressing into his head. He wondered why Carlisle didn't just take the wand off her.

"It's Minister Prestwick, actually, but I'll forgive the slip of the tongue just this once."

"It wasn't a slip," Carlisle assured, the kind smile never leaving his face.

"I was unaware of vampires in these parts. Certainly not ones that were a part of the magical world," Prestwick said, Harry sensing her determination at keeping the situation in her control.

"Yes, well, Harry has been an eye-opening addition to our town, that's for sure. But I also know your sister quite well, having worked with her for a short number of years now." The wand pressed harder into Harry's skull at these words. "Suzanne is quite a talented nurse, I've always thought so. Very good with patients, you know. I suppose her lack of magic meant she didn't recognise my family and me for what we really are, which is a shame for you, I'm sure." If Harry hadn't known him so well, he was sure he would have missed the tension in Carlisle's voice and his posture, telling Harry that there was indeed something he was stalling for. He just hoped that whatever it was wouldn't take much longer to arrive.

"I suppose that's what happens when society is misguided and sisters are separated, isn't it? I do apologise, Mr Cullen, but I've grown bored with this conversation, so if you're here to kill me and save the day, I ask that you get on with it." Prestwick and Harry both watched Carlisle carefully, but he didn't move. Harry felt the wand lift off from his head.

" _Incendio_!" Prestwick shouted.

"NO!" Harry cried as he watched the streak of fire blast towards Carlisle. The vampire watched it calmly before casually blurring out of its path. Prestwick growled in anger, casting nearly a constant stream of fire preventing Carlisle from getting any closer to them. Furious that she was not hitting her target, Prestwick cut off the flames and dragged Harry to his feet, pressing the tip of her wand underneath his chin. Carlisle's shoulders tensed but he still did not move from his position across the clearing, a smouldering ring of fire blocking his path.

"You're wasting my time you parasitic leech. _Avada –"_ Harry closed his eyes as a sudden breeze leapt the flames and flew past him.

"– _Kedavra!_ " Nothing happened. Harry opened one of his eyes, seeing Carlisle smiling smugly. Alice poked her head out from behind him, grinning widely and sending a quick wink at Harry.

"You're looking for this, aren't you?" Alice asked, twirling the Elder wand in her hand. Prestwick swore.

"You dare steal a witch's wand, you filthy creature? No matter, I still have –" she cut off abruptly as though to catch the vampires by surprise and whipped Harry's wand from her pocket. As quickly as she pulled it out, a large lasso of fire curled around her and Harry, adding to those already surrounding them. The heat was intense, sweat already causing Harry's glasses to slide down his nose. All he could hear was the roar of the firestorm, and Prestwick howling in triumph beside him. She controlled the flames with poise, letting them spread outwards to form a wide ring surrounding her and Harry. She shoved Harry to the ground in front of her, never once letting the flames waver.

Harry slowly pulled himself to his feet, sweat now pouring out of his whole body. He watched Prestwick closely, unsure of what to do. He knew she couldn't cast any other spells while she kept the firestorm raging around them, but she could easily divert them to target him if he were to try and attack her. The Elder wand was outside the ring of fire with the Cullens; he couldn't even hear Carlisle or Alice anymore, the roaring and crackling of the fire too great.

"We have reached an impasse, Potter," Prestwick shouted across the gap. "What say you and I apparate out together and leave those leeches to deal with these flames?" She grinned at him manically, the insanity within showing in her eyes for the first time. Harry took a step back but immediately regretted it as the flames licked at his feet. He heard a muffled cry from behind him through the flames before something hard thunked into the back of his head.

"Ow!" Harry turned around to see what had hit him only to see the Elder wand lying in the base of the flames. Harry gasped, watching on helplessly as the flames licked around the slender piece of wood. Before Prestwick could change the trajectory of the fire even more, Harry figured he had one option; he thrust his left hand into the flames, letting out a guttural cry as the fire burned his skin. His hand was in and out as quickly as possible, but the skin was still red raw once he pulled it out with the wand in his grasp.

Harry leapt to his feet, cradling his left hand to his side and pointed the wand at Prestwick.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " He cried, watching on as his own wand flew from Prestwick's hand, the flames cutting off instantaneously.

" _Flipendo!_ " Prestwick was knocked backwards several feet, sent sprawling on the ground. Harry strode up to her, breathing heavily, and thrust the Elder wand in her face. He could feel the wand's power pulsing in his hand, calling to him to unleash it on this woman in front of him. This woman who had ruined his life.

"Harry," a gentle voice came from behind him, but he did not turn to look at its owner.

"You made me leave," he whispered. His voice carried easily down to the woman still lying in the dirt. " _You_ made the protection break. It's your fault they're dead. All of them. You murdered Kingsley." His voice never rose above a whisper, but it didn't need to. Carlisle's hand lay on his shoulder, but he ignored its offered comfort, his mind blank from everything except the woman in front of him.

" _You_ took Hermione's mind! And Ron is _dead_ because of you!" His voice rose with his anger. All of the hatred and agony he had been directing at himself now had a real target, and it was pouring out in waves. " _Everything_ that has gone wrong for me this year, is because of _you_!

"I should kill you," he whispered, pointing the tip of the Elder wand at Prestwick until it was mere millimetres from her face. "I should end your miserable existence right now, just like you did to my friends." His hand shook and he could feel his eyes popping from his head. He had never felt such hatred before, poisoning the blood that ran through his veins.

"Harry," the voice said again, this time more pressingly. Still Harry ignored it.

"Do it, Potter," Prestwick sneered. "You're right, I've taken all your miserable little friends away from you for the sole purpose of breaking you. I left you abandoned and alone on the other side of the globe where you could wither away into a shell of your former self. After all, a defeated man is so easy to manipulate. So go on – end it, Potter. Muster together that Gryffindor courage and end my life. Could you do it? Could you look me in the eye and actually murder me?"

Noise began to interrupt the silence in Harry's head. Prestwick's words rolled around without making sense. Because they _didn't_ make sense. He had been abandoned. He had been so lonely that he had broken. For months he had lived as a shadow, never breathing in the life that was around him. But Prestwick had never been able to manipulate him. She never stood a chance once Harry had found friendship and healing.

Because that's what he properly understood now. Bella and Edward. Carlisle. They had all been there for him, helping him break free from his all-consuming despair. He could never express enough how thankful he was to them for not giving up on him in all his times of bitterness and hatred. He would never forget their friendship, and he could never let them down like this.

Slowly, the wand in Harry's hand lowered.

"It's alright, Harry," Carlisle spoke softly from behind him. "She's not worth it."

"Pathetic," Prestwick spat. "Your weakness is what will get you killed one day, Potter. I only hope that I'll still be around to celebrate it."

Harry ignored her threat, calmly casting a summoning charm to bring his own wand back into his hand. He looked down at her in pity; he wasn't finished with her.

"You're wrong, you know? I'm not broken. I was. For a long time I didn't care about anything and I would have gladly welcomed death. But not anymore. You sent me far away from anyone who ever loved me, but you sent me to a group of people who grew to care for me despite my past." He straightened, and pointed his wand at her once more. "Voldemort's murder does not define me, but bringing you to justice will.

" _Incarcerous!_ " Thick ropes erupted from the end of his wand, tying themselves tightly around Prestwick's midsection.

"This isn't over," she cried. "The world can still witness your magic online!"

" _Could_ witness," Carlisle corrected her. "My family has already seen to that issue. Your video no longer exists anywhere – for good this time," he added, giving Harry a warm smile. Harry could only nod his appreciation, his thanks caught thickly in his throat.

"And my sister? You think she will stop until we achieve our dream?"

"Your sister is presently in custody with two of my children," Carlisle told her. "It was foolish of her to return to her office tonight. I assure you she has come to no harm, though a good bit of fear was injected to find out where you were holding Harry and Bella. She was quite forthcoming with the information, really. Why, we only mentioned you and it was as though your whereabouts appeared in the forefront of her mind for us to see clear as day." Carlisle winked at Harry.

Prestwick let out a pitiful moan as though finally accepting that she had lost.

"Mark my words, Harry Potter. You have branded yourself this day as an enemy of the Unseen. You and your revolting vampires alike." She spat on the ground at their feet, eyes glowing in hatred.

Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes. "The Cullens are far more human that you could ever be. _Stupefy_!" And Prestwick slumped where she sat, gone to the world.

It took all of Harry's strength to stop himself from sinking to the ground alongside her, the exhaustion in his body finally hitting him as he realised he was safe at last. As it were, he staggered slightly, only to be supported by strong, cold hands on his shoulders.

"It's alright, Harry. It's over." Carlisle spoke quietly in his ear. Harry vaguely registered Alice talking to someone at rapid pace nearby. All he could do was stare at the woman who had been controlling his life for so long.

"I wanted to kill her," he admitted softly. He knew Alice would still hear, but he meant the words only for Carlisle. "I really did. But she was right – I couldn't look her in the eye and do it. I am weak."

Carlisle moved around to stand in front of Harry drawing his attention away from Prestwick and onto the man's golden eyes. He never removed the strong grasp on Harry's shoulders.

"Weakness is not lacking the strength to kill somebody, Harry," he said quietly but firmly. "On the contrary; it took great strength to take the higher ground and walk away despite the horrific things she has done to you. As you told her: _that_ is what defines you."

Before he really knew what he was doing, Harry found himself wrapping his arms roughly around Carlisle's shoulders. He tried to communicate as much thanks into the hug as he could, not trusting himself to speak. The man froze for only a second before he returned the gesture, giving Harry a comforting squeeze in return. Harry barely noticed the cold, the night air around them having frozen him long ago, but he could feel a stirring of warmth inside his heart.

Suddenly, Harry pushed himself away, gasping, "Bella!"

"She's alright, Harry," Carlisle assured him. "She has a nasty concussion and is quite shaken, but there will be no lasting damage. Edward is with her – he wanted his apologies passed on for not staying to assist you.

"We're quite a ways from Forks, and he got to you well before the rest of us," Carlisle explained, looking over at Alice who was still rambling on the phone. "He took Bella away to safety, sensing in Prestwick's mind that she didn't intend to kill you." Carlisle's eyes wrinkled in pain. "Her intentions were only ever to break you. Edward saw that she would do anything in her power to drag you into submissiveness, but never meant to go so far as to end your life. Obviously we were mistaken, and it was nearly my doing that pushed her to change those intentions. I had anticipated someone joining me earlier, but it was fortuitous that Alice arrived when she had. It was a great personal risk for her to leap the flames as she did. I'm sorry it took us so long to finally help you; you must have wondered if we'd abandoned you."

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm fine – or at least I will be." A sudden stinging from his left hand drew his attention away from Carlisle. His hand was bright red and blazing hot from putting it in the fire. He hissed in pain as the burning seemed to grow exponentially now that it had his full attention.

Carlisle rested the back of his hand against Harry's glowing palm, the cold from the vampire's skin immediately giving relief.

"It's not a serious burn, Harry. It'll be fine."

Harry nodded. The pain now subsiding slightly, his thoughts went to Prestwick's final words. He wondered what she meant by 'the Unseen', dreading the possibility of another single-minded group of wizards. Were there more like the Prestwicks who wanted to reveal magic to Muggles?

Harry closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He didn't want to be thinking of this right now; those were concerns for the future. For now, he knew that it was time for him to return home, and this time he felt he might actually be ready. Someone would have to bring Prestwick to the Order, and Suzanne would have to be dealt with also. Harry smiled at the thought of seeing Teddy again. And the Weasleys. It was time for him to apologise to them. Time to go home.

"You're ready now, aren't you," Carlisle interrupted his thoughts. It wasn't asked as a question; the resolve was clear on Harry's face as to what he had to do.

"I think I've run for long enough," he murmured. "Time to face those I left behind." He turned to look at Carlisle. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

Carlisle smiled, "Never. And I hope we'll see you again sometime?" Harry could sense the uncertainty in the man's words, and was warmed knowing he would always be welcomed back in Forks.

"You know," Harry smirked, "it was the vampires that made me never want to live here in the first place. Now it seems strange imagining not having you guys and Bella around." Carlisle smiled warmly at Harry's words, both of them content to know this wouldn't be the end of their friendship.

"Right now, though," Harry admitted, "all I need is my bed in Forks."

Finally finished speaking with the others, Alice came over and wrapped them both in a tight embrace.

"Come on then, you two. Let's go home."

* * *

 **A/N: And thus the end is reached. An epilogue to follow...**


	41. Epilogue

_6 months later_

The sun shone brightly on the expansive castle grounds. One year on, Hogwarts had come a long way: the walls and towers were standing tall, the grounds were lush with life, and learning was taking place within its halls once again. The teachers and Order of the Phoenix had watched over the rebuilding phase, motivated by the promise of students returning for a new school term in a matter of months after the Battle. It had been slow, heart-breaking work, each piece of rubble they removed a reminder of what their new found peace had cost. But together they had persevered until Hogwarts was returned to her former glory.

The memorial was held down by the lake. A mournful peace was settled over the people gathered as they shared their memories and offered their love to each other. Speeches had been made in memoriam of those who had fallen that night, promising that they did not die in vain, that the rest of them were alive and free because of their sacrifice. Thanks had been given to those fighters still standing, acknowledging their battling for the peace of the future. It had been a beautiful ceremony filled with love and loss.

Harry stood alone in front of the memorial statue that had been erected shortly after the Battle. It depicted a wizard whose face was hidden, kneeling on the rubble and offering a hand to another fallen wizard. Their hands were clasped together in strength. Most people believed the kneeling wizard to be Harry himself, while the fallen wizard represented the wizarding world he saved from falling victim to the Death Eaters. Harry personally felt more in common with the fallen wizard, the hand offered out to him an offering of forgiveness and support from the wizarding world and his loved ones. He didn't like to dwell on the statue's figures.

Instead his eyes read the names of everyone who had died in the name of the Light, each person's name etched into the marble slab the two figures stood upon. His eyes lingered on Ron's name. Remus and Tonks, Fred and Luna. Even Snape's. He gave his apologies and his thanks to each of them in turn, just as he had done every day since returning.

He sensed rather than heard someone come up to stand beside him, Harry knowing who it was even before they spoke.

"I think they'd be proud, you know," Ginny said softly. "Proud of all of us. Of you."

"Proud of me for running away?" He didn't mean to sound bitter, but he couldn't help some of his sorrow leaking out today.

"Proud of you for coming back."

They stood there like that, shoulder to shoulder in front of the statue for a long time. Their fellow mourners wandered around them, talking softly amongst themselves. Finally, when Harry felt he had had enough, he spoke.

"Ready?"

Ginny didn't respond verbally. Instead she slipped her hand into his and gently turned them away from the statue, heading away from the crowd and towards the main gates of the castle.

While they walked, Harry thought back on the last several months. It seemed like so long ago that he and the Cullens had brought Prestwick to justice. McGonagall had arrived in Forks in search of Harry after he had been kidnapped by the Minister but found nowhere nearby in Britain. Harry had returned to the wizarding world with McGonagall that very day, bringing the two Prestwicks with him. Neither would answer questions on the Unseen, the both of them seeming incapable of offering more than that name. Both Suzanne and the former Minister appeared to have blank spots in their memories that no one could breach. If they existed, the Unseen had effectively wiped themselves from the Prestwicks' minds.

Since then Harry had been exonerated by the Ministry, Prestwick having confessed to her crimes including the murder of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The new Minister, a kindly man who Harry so far respected, had ordered his Ministry and the public leave Harry alone. There were of course still people who would cast him wary glances, but Harry had become all too used to ignoring them.

His days following had been filled with visiting the Weasleys, Molly so overcome with joy at having him home that she insisted on him staying for lunch and dinner. Harry had kindly beaten down her invitation to stay with them; he still found in unsettling being at the Burrow without Ron. Instead, he had bought himself a small cottage in the outskirts of London, unable to face Grimmauld Place which he left for the Order of the Phoenix to use as they pleased.

Harry and Ginny had reached the gates now, stepping outside the school's anti-apparition wards. He let Ginny pull him into the darkness, his thoughts still a million miles away. Ginny had been the hardest person to mend his friendship with. After he told the Weasleys some of what had happened to him, Ginny had become angry. She didn't care that he'd left. She'd even forgiven the fact that he hadn't so much as contacted anyone since leaving. Ginny's fury was aimed at Harry's blaming himself for everybody's deaths, particularly her brothers'. Once she had finally calmed down, she and Harry had spoken for several hours about what had happened. They had both ended up reassuring the other that neither of them were to blame for Fred and Ron's deaths, and that Harry had no right to blame himself for anyone else's either. He had told her all about the Cullens, especially Carlisle and how much he had helped him realise his innocence in his last few days in Forks. Ginny promised she could be that source of help among wizards, and together they slowly rebuilt their trust. It was only in the last month that they had decided to give their abandoned relationship another go. So far, they were both happier than ever.

Harry's feet slammed into the solid concrete ground. He and Ginny had landed in a familiar back alley in the middle of London that sat directly opposite the old, run down shop front of Purge & Dowse Ltd. Together they approached the glass front of the shop, and once signalled by the mannequin inside, stepped through into the waiting room of St Mungo's. Inside, a boy was screaming in his mother's arms while she tried to shush him comfortingly. Harry smiled remembering some of his days with Teddy.

Every Saturday morning, Harry would turn up on the doorstep of Andromeda Tonks where he would collect his godson and take him out for the day. Sometimes they would go to a park, and other times they would spend the day at Harry's, more often than not in his backyard zooming around on the toy broomstick Harry had gotten Teddy for his first birthday. Sometimes Ginny would join them, and sometimes even Bella or Edward would come over, each one of them just as enamoured by Teddy as Harry was.

He still visited Forks as often as he could. He had effectively dropped out of Forks High, not having time for his Muggle learning since returning home. But every Sunday he would use the Floo connection between his two houses, the international link installed and sanctioned by the Minister himself, to go to spend the day with Bella and the Cullens. Harry had made sure to check that Floo fire couldn't burn vampires, and once they had been sure, the Cullens began using Harry's fireplace to visit him in England. He had given Bella and Edward both a key to his house in Forks so they could visit anytime. Harry still blushed remembering the first time they had visited his England home, and the bear hug Mrs Weasley had given them all in thanks for taking care of him.

Harry and Ginny made their way up the familiar route to the fourth floor, down to the room they had spent so much time in. Almost one year ago exactly, Harry had learned of his best friend's fate, of all her memories being stolen. That day he had made a promise to her and since returning to England, Harry had not once let down on that promise. Today, Harry stood in Hermione's doorway looking at his friend, just as he had on the worst day of his life. He remembered making the promise as though it had happened yesterday.

Harry had sworn that once he returned from America, he would visit her every day. He knew he could never discover a cure or reverse what had been done to her, but every day he would visit her and tell her stories. He promised to tell her all the stories that no one else would know to tell her, of all the mischief the three of them had caused at Hogwarts, of all the laughter they had shared, of all the heartbreak they had experienced.

"Hey Hermione," he smiled as he came into the room.

"Hello Harry. Hello Ginny." She knew who many people were now, but it was the new memories that she was using not the old ones coming back. "Have you two had your exams yet?"

Part of his discussions with Professor McGonagall when Harry first returned, had been about his immediate future. They had discussed for an entire morning his options and which one would be the most beneficial for him to take. In the end, Harry's decision hadn't been purely based on his own wishes, but rather he'd thought heavily on those of two others.

Harry was only a few weeks away from sitting his NEWTs alongside Ginny. Every day and most evenings since returning to the wizarding world, he had Flooed to Hogwarts for private tuition from each of the professors. Sometimes Ginny would join him, but he would never sit in the seventh year classes. Professor McGonagall had promised him it would not be easy to learn everything for his exams after effectively not schooling for eighteen months, but Harry had insisted he could do it. Ron now never would, and Hermione likely never could; Harry's NEWTs would be for all three of them.

"They're not for a few weeks still," Ginny answered. "Would you like to hear about the service?" At Hermione's nod, Ginny began telling her all about their morning at Hogwarts. She easily flowed on into stories about the castle grounds and various happy afternoons spent down by the lake while at school together. Hermione's face was bright as she listened, the blankness in her eyes less pronounced with each day as new memories cemented into her mind. Harry watched on, unable to stop the peace that had overcome him.

He reflected back on his past year. Twelve months ago, Harry had thought his life was over. His best friends had been taken from him, as had so many others he admired and loved. Alone on the opposite side of the world he had sunk into what had felt like a never ending pit of despair. It had taken a long time and some very special people to pull him out of that hole, and Harry was forever grateful for what Bella and the Cullens, particularly Carlisle and Edward, had done for him. Now he was back surrounded by magic and old friends, helping Hermione and completing his schooling. Bella and the Cullens were still in his life, Harry cherishing every day that he visited them. He and Ginny had managed to wade through their complicated past to form a new, stronger relationship than before, both of them supporting each other with the bouts of grief that would still overcome them on occasion. Harry couldn't help the smile that lit up his face.

"You seem to get happier all the time, Harry," Hermione commented, bringing him from his thoughts. He hadn't realised she'd been watching him.

Holding Ginny's hand, Harry replied contentedly, "I guess I've finally started to accept that having a real future isn't so impossible after all."

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, thank you to everyone who has read this story, a special shout out to those of you who have stuck out from the very beginning last December. As my first story, it's pretty amazing to have as many people following my story as I've had. Thanks to all the anonymous reviews that I couldn't reply to - I read every one of them.**

 **I started writing this about 5 years ago, but had never been motivated to finish it until I decided to publish it online. I'm super pleased that I actually had a chapter for you guys every single week for the past 9 months.**

 **In terms of a sequel, as you can tell there's some unanswered questions. Who are the Unseen? Where are the wolves? Does Harry pass his NEWTs? I would dearly love to write a sequel, and there are some random pieces of plot in my head already. I will say though that there certainly won't be anything anytime soon, in which case if you'd be interested in reading a sequel I'd suggest giving my author page a follow. IF I create a good plot that I feel I can make worthwhile, then there will be a sequel. I really hope that I do.**

 **Thank you again to all of you. Hope to see you in the (potential) sequel!**

 **~Akylascorch~**


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